Relief
by serenaandapen
Summary: My father always told me that we can never choose our destiny, that our destiny chooses us. It's not always what we want, but we have to accept it. I think the only reason I listened to him was because, when he said this, he knew he was dying. AH OOC
1. Storm

**A/N: This is my first shot at fanfic, and I hope I didn't mess with your beloved characters too much. I hope you enjoy :) and please, for the sake of all that is holy, REVIEW! SMeyer owns.**

**Alice POV**

I stared out the window, pouting a little, my legs swinging back and forth off the edge of my bed. It was raining again. It always rained, and I was tired of it. But this time, the power was out, and I couldn't turn my TV on or heat up my curling iron. All of my magazines were read and gutted of all good fashion ads that now hung on my walls and my cell phone was dead. It had been raining ceaselessly since Thursday when my father picked Edward and I up from First Beach after his check-up at the doctor's office. I'd found it kind of ironic, considering my dad was a doctor himself. Regardless, it had been raining for four days. We were lucky that Carlisle decided to build our house on high terrain. Some homes at sea level were worried about flooding. At least there was a bit of brightness left; the coolness of the gray sky filtered in through my curtains and casted a muted glow on the dark wooden floors. On the bright side—no pun intended—it could have been dark, and I hated the dark.

"Alice!"

My eyes snapped up from my pale knees as someone pounded relentlessly on my bedroom door. I sneered. Edward. He was so irritating.

"What do you want?" I called across my football field of a bedroom. My clock at my bedside table read 6:30. Dinnertime. My mother and father smiled at me from the family picture that sat in the delicate silver frame by my alarm.

"Esme said to come downstairs to help set the table," he hollered, opening the door without permission. I slipped my flat off my foot and promptly threw it at his big, bronze-colored head.

"I didn't tell you that you could come in, Edward," I snarled, removing my other shoe from lack of proper ammunition.

"Well I didn't ask," he snickered, dodging the Italian leather that was soaring towards his face. "Besides, if you didn't want me in here, you should have locked the door." The grin he wore was so smug that I nearly lunged at him myself.

Edward is the younger of my two brothers, and while I liked him more than Emmett, he was definitely the lesser of two evils. Edward and I are twins, and he seemed to think that because we share a birthday, it was okay to be a complete dick without any remorse. On our thirteenth birthday four years ago, I invited my first boyfriend, Bryce, over for the 'family birthday party' that my mother insisted on hosting. I remember Bryce that day so clearly as if it was happening all over again in my head. He ran from the house, screaming to his mother on his cell phone, with pink icing hardening around his carefully gelled spikes. Edward had howled with laughter as he and Emmett rubbed the butter cream into Bryce's hair as if they were washing a dog, Bryce screaming and crying all the while as Esme tried to pull the boys away from him. My eyes had brightened at the sight of my giant pink birthday cake, Esme balancing it precariously on her palms, my elated squeals transforming to screams of terror as Edward jumped from behind a curtain, screaming, "boo!" and laughing hysterically as our mother dropped my pink birthday cake to the floor in complete fear. He and Emmett apparently thought it was a good idea to scoop the ruined cake from the floor and wash my boyfriend's hair with it. I had told myself that something bad would happen as far as my brothers' involvement was concerned, almost like a premonition. But I'd passed it off as paranoia, figuring that Edward and Emmett would at least behave themselves on our birthday. I had been wrong. Bryce never came back again.

The story of my unfortunate thirteenth birthday party sort of demonstrates my entire childhood with Edward as my brother. Other than the same birthday, we shared a car, a school, a family, a bathroom…we obviously shared way too much. And the anger of seventeen tortured years of sharing a roof with Edward Cullen seemed to accumulate in that moment, as he stood defiantly in my doorway.

"Get the _fuck_ out of my way, Edward," I hissed, shoving past him with as much force as my four foot, eleven inch frame would allow. That was another thing that irritated me; Edward managed to make it over six feet while I wallowed in the fact that I was almost legally a midget.

"Alright, Alice. Have fun letting Esme boss you around. I'll just be messing around with your shit while your gone." His lips curled up at the ends as he crossed his ankles in a casual stance, fingering the edges of a _Vogue_ that sat on my desk.

"Try it and see what happens," I threatened, taking a step towards him.

"Ooh, and I'm supposed to be scared of you?" he cackled, throwing his head back in exaggerated laughter.

"Alice, Edward, knock it off." A smooth voice interrupted our quarrel, both of our heads turning simultaneously to face our father. Carlisle stood outside of his study door, arms crossed over his chest and his mouth turned downward in distaste.

"He started it," I mumbled childishly, my eyes on the floor. I twirled a tiny piece of black hair around my finger as Edward tried to form a poorly articulated excuse.

"I honestly don't care who 'started it,' Alice," Carlisle said firmly, cutting Edward off in the midst of his defense. "Go do what your mother asked." He pointed a long, pale finger towards the winding staircase. I followed his instruction without argument, Carlisle's voice wafting down with me as I left. "And as for you Edward, stop with the fucking cussing."

Esme was the anchor of the Cullen household. It was odd that she allowed us to call her Esme, but she had insisted that she liked it better than 'mom' because it kept her feeling young. Emmett always called her mom, and Edward did most of the time, but I think she liked for me to call her Esme because it made her feel like we were friends.

"I thank God for you, Alice," she said when I entered the kitchen. "I thought no one would come and help." A grin stretched across her face and she flipped her mahogany waves behind her shoulder.

"I don't mind," I lied. I arranged five glass plates perfectly around or circular table, humming some song I forgot the name of as Esme tossed a salad. Silence lingered in the kitchen, occasionally being broken by the clinking of glass or the pitter-pat of my footsteps against the tile. Esme wasn't particularly talented when it came to interacting with her own children. Both she and Carlisle worked like dogs day-in and day-out, leaving my brothers and I alone most of the time.

"So Alice, are you up for a little shopping in Port Angeles Wednesday before school starts?" Esme always broke the ice with a shopping proposal. Against my will, my face lit up as I slid onto a barstool.

"What do you think?" I asked rhetorically, biting into a carrot. Esme playfully swatted my hand away from her salad ingredients.

"Great. Your father is taking the day off Wednesday, too. I think he's going to ask Em and Edward to go on the boat or something."

"The boat? In Forks? That's probably a stupid idea. It's been raining like crazy," I argued, gesturing towards the lighting fixtures that were still not working under the circumstances of famous Forks inclement weather. Esme hummed thoughtfully.

"Well, they'll think of something to do." She hastily chopped a stalk of celery, just missing the tip of her index finger. Her eyes widened infinitesimally at the close proximity of the butcher knife to her finger before they softened and her lips hardened into a straight line. I bit my lip.

"So you said Dad's taking the day off?" I asked. "He never does stuff like that. What's the occasion?" Esme continued to cut the celery into fine grains as if I hadn't asked a question.

"He feels guilty," she said suddenly. "He's never home enough, and he thinks that the boys are starting to resent him." I couldn't argue. Mine and Edward's little interaction with Carlisle upstairs just before was a fine portrayal of our relationship with him.

Carlisle loved us undoubtedly, but he always served as the more disciplinary parent while Esme was the more loving and indulging one. I suppose that it was necessary, what with Emmett's constant trouble making and Edward's dire need to pester me twenty-four hours a day. But Carlisle was seen as the villain. Esme could catch me doing something as bad as hooking up with my first cousin in her bathtub next to forty-two lines of un-snorted coke, and she would just smile and say, "Just wait until your father comes home!" She'd probably even help clean up afterwards, as long as she didn't have to punish me. I never really acted out much though, because I was actually trying to create a future for myself. I was bound for art school and took up all of my free time in drawing classes and shopping around with my best friend, Rose. I left the felonies and DUIs to my brothers.

"Funny that it's taken him seventeen years-well, eighteen as far as Emmett's concerned-to 'feel guilty' for neglecting his kids," I blurted, blushing at Esme's stunned reaction.

"Alice!" she chastised. "You know that he tries. Look at what he bought you for your birthday this year! And he offered Emmett that internship at the hospital…" She trailed off, realizing that all of Carlisle's efforts were entirely material. But her eyes were sad. Devastated, even. I couldn't understand why; she'd never protested against my complaints about Carlisle's parenting before. But her face fell slack, like she was dead. Her grip suddenly tightened around the cutting knife, her already pale knuckles bleaching white and her face coming back to life.

"Yeah, Esme. He bought me a Gucci bag. That hardly quantifies as love."

"Listen to me. He's trying. Let him try."

"He's trying with them, but why not me? Don't I get a free day with Daddy Dearest?" At that, she slammed the knife down on the cutting board. Her eyes were wide, her free hand gripping the edge of the granite countertop. She hesitated slightly, he face turning a purplish red, before exploding with anger.

"Your dad has cancer, Alice. He's going to die. There. Is that good enough for you?" I opened my mouth to say something, but my throat was suddenly parched and no sound would come out.

"So I hope you're happy with that explanation, Alice. I hope you're pleased with your little performance. Carlisle has given you kids everything, and you know he loves you best. You're his only daughter. Give him the benefit of the doubt, and stop being a little bitch."

My eyes welled with tears, my mouth still hanging open to say something that my throat wouldn't let me. _Your dad has cancer, Alice. He's going to die. _I thought back to Thursday, when the storm began. Carlisle had picked Edward and I up from La Push; Emmett had taken our Volvo for the day since his Jeep was in the shop. I hadn't noticed it at the time, but when I thought back, his face had been emotionless and his lips drained of color. He had known. He had already found out. And Edward and I just yelled at him about how he had been late and we'd had to stand out in the rain. Our _father_ had just found out that he was _dying_ and all we had done was complain about getting _wet_.

Esme choked out a sob, leaving the vegetables half-chopped on the counter as she turned on her heel and ran for her bedroom.

Nobody ate dinner that night.

The sky eventually brightened from a pitch black to a muted gray, an indication that the day was new. My eyes had remained open all night. My eyelashes were wet, my carefully applied mascara dried in dark tracks down my cheeks, the corners of my lips sticky with dried saliva. I heard a soft rapping at the door around noon, which I ignored.

"Alice? Mom says you're not coming to hang out at Jasper's with Emmett and me today. Change your mind?" I heard Edward's low voice call. I disregarded this also. I heard the doorknob jiggle, and I emitted the first sound I'd made in twelve hours. It was a humorless chuckle. It was ironic-the first time I had remembered to lock my door was the one time Edward wasn't intentionally trying to aggravate me. Eventually, the rattling stopped, and the house fell silent. I assumed that Esme had gone off to work at her interior design company and Carlisle had driven to the hospital for his shift. I found it confusing that Carlisle's body was fighting itself and he was continuing to try and save other people's lives. It seemed that everything was full of irony. Staring at the red numbers of my alarm, I watched the hours pass without moving from my fetal position on my bed, my father's face watching me with a smile from the picture frame beside my clock.

I couldn't tell Edward. I wouldn't tell him. It wasn't my secret to tell. I figured Carlisle's random decision to skip work Wednesday was so that he could tell my brothers himself, and as much as I wanted to scream or yell or kick Edward in the face, I couldn't. I couldn't do anything. My father had cancer. It was so messed up. I was so happy, a hyper little seventeen-year-old girl with tons of money and friends and potential. I was going to art school. I even thought that maybe Jasper Hale from school had a crush on me. Everything was fucking perfect. But then…this. Carlisle was a surgeon, for crying out loud. It was kind of like a fireman's house burning down, or a policeman's home being intruded. For some reason, it seemed against the norm. Since Carlisle was a doctor, he could never be sick. As irrational as it was, it sounded completely sound and reasonable in my head. I had formed a sort of hatred for my paternal figure, for reasons unknown. Maybe it was because he was never really around, or maybe it's because he was always there and I took him for granted. Or maybe it was because Emmett and Edward hated him so much, and the hatred sort of rubbed off on me. Carlisle seemed a permanent fixture to me, a never-ending money supply. A prop that always handed me his car keys when I wanted to go to a party with Rose or a black Am-Ex when I wanted a new pair of shoes. I never thought of him not being there.

In these hours that I lay on my antique sleigh bed, soaking my silk pillows with silent tears, I never once considered that Carlisle could get better. I expected the worst. Now that I knew he was sick, I couldn't picture him getting better. And I wasn't even sure what type of cancer he had. Truthfully, I didn't know much about the disease. I just knew that it was common, and a lot of people in the world had it. Rose's grandmother had died from it in the ninth grade, and Jasper's uncle had melanoma. I'm sure Carlisle has been livid with Esme after she told him that the news slipped out. My dad did adore me, after all. He had probably wanted to tell me himself. I was the 'good child,' always getting straight A's and going out with the right boys. And I repaid him with disrespect and indifference. His eyes were wide and expecting when he handed me that wrapped package on my seventeenth birthday, his cheeks pink with expectation. And the purse that was inside was _exactly_ the one I'd wanted. It was perfect and beautiful and I'd sneak off to my closet in the middle of the night to just look at it. In the split second I first laid eyes on it, I already planned to buy a matching wallet and thought up fifteen different outfits I could wear it with. But I swallowed it all back.

"Thanks, dad. It's nice," I'd said, without sparing even a smile. And his face fell miserably, crumpling into a devastating frown that made his young face look old. Defeated. And I had been happy, hoping that finally, he could see that I wanted _affection_ and not a four thousand dollar Gucci bag. Even though it _was_ perfect. A piece of art, really.

I would take it all back, in a heartbeat. I would throw my arms around his neck, squealing about how completely faultless the leather was, how beautiful the gold chain-link handle looked, how it was exactly what I had always dreamed about. But it was too late. My newfound love for my father would now be only recognized as pity.

After the red numbers on the clock morphed into indecipherable shapes through my tears, the sky grew dark again. I knew that the power was probably back on, but I couldn't break the walls of my grief to reach for the light switch.

"Leave her alone, Emmett." Esme's soft voice broke me from my sleep. My eyes lazily opened, my body stiff and my short hair ruffled from two days of being unwashed. It wasn't like me not to be perfectly groomed, and the feeling was uncomfortable.

"Why not? She's been in there all fucking day." Emmett's voice was booming, and it made my heavy head rattle.

"She's sick," Esme lied quickly, their voices growing faint as they distanced themselves from my door.

I knew that I couldn't waste away in my bedroom for the last week of summer until school started, and eventually Em and Edward would get suspicious. I made a decision then, beneath the new halo of light from my table lamp. My father was dying. I loved my father, even though he thought I loathed him. My father loved me. My mother loved my father, and wanted me to love him too. My brothers were assholes. And I loved my brothers. So I would pretend like nothing was wrong. I only had one day left to fake happiness until they found out for themselves. Just twenty-four hours, and that was all I had to fight through. And I'd do it. I'd do it for my dad, for Esme, and for Edward and Emmett. I needed to grow the fuck up.

**This chapter is a little lame. I realized after going back to revise when I was writing one of the soon-to-last chapters. But give it a chance!**


	2. Matchmaker, Matchmaker

**A/N: Switchin' it up. I like Edward POV best because his mind is really funny to me. Hope you like. Smeyer owns and I don't.  
**

**EPOV**

Alice had been sulking around like a lazy bitch for almost three days. Well, technically, just two, but something happened Sunday night that shut her up. Most people would have been thankful, considering Alice was loud and pretty much ADHD every single god-forsaken day. But something was off. It made my stomach do little flips and shit, and I didn't like being so uneasy.

I'd pounded on her door Sunday evening because Esme kept bugging me about setting the damned table, and Carlisle always said that the girls were supposed to do that stuff. I knew it was impolite to objectify women like that-I wasn't born an asshole. But I wanted to go out back and play catch with Emmett and setting tables was never my forte. When I swung her door open she was just sitting there, staring at her knees, all lethargic and sluggish. I didn't even have enough time to blink before the woman threw her shoe at my face. And then threw the other one when I didn't leave immediately. So she seemed pretty normal then…and she seemed fine after Carlisle bitched us out and made her go help Esme just as I'd hoped.

"And as for you, Edward, stop with the fucking cussing," he'd said before trotting back down the hallway to his office. I snickered at his retreating back. _Good example, Carlisle._ He managed to slip in an expletive while encouraging me not to use such things. My dad wasted away in his study for hours each night after getting home from work. I remember when I was younger I'd stare at that door, hating it. Every time he came home and locked himself away in there, I'd sit on the floor against the wall across from it and stare it down. I know it seems stupid to hate an inanimate object, but I did anyways. The door was thick and heavy, and I could almost hear it laughing at me as it concealed my father's face so I couldn't see him. I wanted him to just…hang out with me. I always had around two or three hours before Esme would make me go to sleep that he had the opportunity to get to know me, but he would just run to that office and I wouldn't see him until the following night unless I was lucky enough to run into him in the kitchen before school the next morning.

In the fifth grade, Alice and I had this thing at school where we had to invite a parent to come, and everyone in the class was all excited for their parents with cool, impressive jobs to come in and basically brag for ten minutes. Esme showed up with her design assistant, Javier, who was completely gay and liked to 'bedazzle' all of his clothes with rhinestones and shit. The boys in class laughed at me when my mom talked about couch upholstery and this one time when she flew to LA to renovate some famous person's living room. Their dads were firemen and accountants and one kid's dad was even a fucking mailman, but at least their dads took the time off to show up. Carlisle had mumbled an apology, patting me on the head dismissively as he shuffled out the door. "Sorry," he'd said, looking around for his briefcase, "there's just too much I have to do that day. Maybe next year."

There wasn't a next year. In middle school, there aren't ridiculous things like "Career Day." And I wanted to tell him that, but I swallowed back the lump of ice that had formed in the hollow of my throat and forced a smile. He never even looked at me.

Now that Alice wasn't upstairs to irritate and I was pretty much forbidden from rummaging through her belongings, I was out of things to do. I could have always defied Carlisle and went through her drawers anyhow, but my car was in Carlisle's name as was my college tuition fund. So I settled for the next best thing.

"Emmett! Where are you?" I called down the hall.

"In your room," his voice boomed from the third floor. I tried not to be irritated that he was in my room without permission. It would only be hypocrisy, as breaking into Alice's was my latest hobby. My room and Esme's storage room were the only ones on the third story, which made my frequent co-ed sleepovers and my smoking habit a kept secret. Emmett had his feet up on my gold comforter when I entered, not having even bothered to remove his shoes.

"Get your dirty shoes off my bed, douche bag," I growled, swatting at his muddy sneakers. He snickered, moving back just enough to miss my flying fist. To my great surprise, he complied.

"We still going to Jasper's tomorrow?" he asked, raising a thick, dark eyebrow.

"I guess. We have nothing else to do," I shrugged, opening a window to let a little light come into my dark room. _Fucking storm_. A lot of people from school were still on vacation, soaking up as much sun as possible the week before returning back to the cursed Forks High School.

"Be more enthusiastic, bro," Emmett sighed, stretching back on my bed. I plopped down on my sofa across the room, leaning my cheek against my hand. "It's not everyday you get the excuse of going to your friend's house just to look at his hot ass sister," he added with a smirk. I almost choked.

"Wait, excuse me?" I asked in a strangled voice. "Are you talking about Rosalie?"

"Does Jasper have _another_ hot ass sister that I could be talking about? Because if he does, then that would fucking rock." Emmett let out a bellowing laugh, putting his hands behind his head.

"Emmett," I said, my eyes still wide with shock, "Rose is Alice's best friend. That's really creepy. Plus, Rose is a bitch." Emmett absolutely could not be interested in Rosalie Hale. Rosalie was my age, and had been friends with Alice since we were all little. To top it all off, Jasper was Emmett's and my friend. It was just fucked from the beginning. Emmett laughed again. The kid laughed too much.

"A bitch, I can handle. I'm not really concerned." He was just so confident. Rosalie was cynical, more so than anyone I'd ever known. She'd put gum in my hair once when I was twelve because I'd told her she looked pretty. "You're _supposed_ to tell me that I look _beautiful_," she'd corrected, pressing a big, pink wad of bubblegum above my right ear. Esme had had to cut it out. But, in her defense, she was a really good friend to Al. She beat the crap out of Emmett and me after we harassed Alice's boyfriend when we were thirteen. Literally. It was weird how strong she was.

"This is…sudden," I said pointedly, deciding on the exactly right word to use. I began thoughtlessly sketching on a pad of paper.

"Eh, not really," he protested, crossing his ankles, his big toe sticking out through a hole in his sock. "Rose has always had it goin' on. I just decided to grow some and try it with her." I had to laugh at his words; they were so thoughtless.

"As long as you think it's a good idea…" I trailed off. Emmett was going to do what Emmett wanted to do, and nothing that I could say or do would change that.

"I think that it's a very, very good idea."

"Hey!" I yelled down the stairs, "What's going on with the whole dinner thing?" No one answered. It was eight, almost an hour and a half after Alice had gone downstairs to set the table. It was all really weird. The house was completely silent, other than Em's soft snores coming from my bed. It pissed me off. He had his own fucking bed to sleep in. I padded down the stairs, figuring they couldn't hear me all the way on the first floor.

"Hello? Dinner?" I hollered from the balcony. But the kitchen was still and empty. The entire floor was. The weird part was that there was a big salad bowl and all these little chopped-up vegetables just sitting there. The table was half-set, and a pitcher of water was sweating in the center of our round kitchen table. Alice's door was shut, and so was the study door that I so hated. I descended the winding staircase slowly, passing my mom and dad's bedroom on the way to the kitchen. I rapped on its double doors softly with my knuckles.

"Mom?" I called softly. "Esme? Are you in there?" No answer. Weird.

I made my rounds downstairs, even poking my head out the back door to the deck in case, for some reason, Esme had decided to soak up-literally-some wind and rain outdoors. I decided not to annoy Alice, considering I'd pissed her off so thoroughly earlier. And even if I'd wanted to go see Carlisle, the study doors held me back.

"Well, Em, we're on our own for food," I sighed, leaning against my doorway. He let out a great snort as he broke out of his nap, rolling over to stare at me drowsily.

"Hm?" he hummed, leaning up.

"Esme and Alice appear to have ditched on dinner. The house is like a fucking ghost town. Mom's locked her door and Alice and Dad are up to their own shenanigans," I shrugged. "We can order pizza or something."

Emmett was all too eager for the pizza idea, opting to call the pizza place on his cell, considering the house phones still weren't working. When the pizza got to the house, Esme had at some point left a blank check on the table by the front door. I briefly considered just paying for the pizza with my own cash and saving the blank check for a more worthy cause, but what was left of my weathered conscience got the best of me.

"Weird," Emmett commented as he shoved a steaming slice into his mouth, "that everyone seems to be M.I.A." I nodded thoughtfully.

The next morning seemed back to normal. Emmett bounded into my room--uninvited, once again--all eager to get to the Hale's house. I wondered what Alice would think when she caught him making googly eyes at her best friend. The thought alone made me laugh.

I dressed in a hurry, anxious to get out of the house. The rain had subsided just a little bit, but it still made me hopeful. Esme's smiling face welcomed me into the kitchen, but it didn't escape my notice that the smile failed to touch her eyes.

"What was with the ghost town last night?" I asked, glancing up at her between bites of pancake.

"What?" she asked as she reached for a mug in the cabinet. I knew she had heard me.

"Last night. No dinner. Blank check. Ring a bell?" I didn't want to play games.

"Oh. That. I was just…tired," she breathed, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "Want some?"

"Yeah, thanks," I said before taking a scorching gulp. "Damn it," I cursed, fanning my tongue. She giggled. I tried not to let the burnt-tongue incident distract me from getting to the bottom of Esme's evasiveness.

"So you mean to tell me that you left a cutting board piled with vegetables on the counter and plates on the table and just skipped out on making dinner altogether because you were _tired_?" I cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.

"I mean, yeah," she murmured, her eyebrows pulling together, "I had a long day." So she was lying to me. And I knew she wasn't going to tell me the truth, at least not now. So I let it drop.

"Alice, Emmett, and I are going to hang with Jasper and Rose today," I said nonchalantly, knowing her ears would perk when she heard Alice and Jasper's names mentioned in the same sentence. Strangely, her face fell and she frowned.

"Oh," she flushed, "you're bringing Alice with you? How nice. And Rosalie, too?" She finished off her coffee and put the mug in the sink.

"Yeah. Em and I figure we leave her out too much. And Emmett seems to want to be wherever Rose is these days…"

"You make sure to only say nice things about Alice whenever you're around Jasper, okay, honey?" she said, forcing a smile. Something was still off. "But I don't know if Alice will come today. She's feeling a little bit under the weather." Her eyes darted down to her empty mug by the drain, a deep line forming on her forehead. Huh. Alice had seemed fine last night. I'd just go bug her and talk her into coming. It was unlike her to deny the opportunity to stare at Jasper's skinny ass, sick or not.

It was no secret that Al adored Jasper. Every time I so much as mentioned his name, her head snapped towards me in attention. She feigned apathy, but I knew from the way her tone changed whenever she mentioned him that she was enamored.

"Sure, Mom. I'll make her out to be Mother Theresa, no worries." She threw an oven mitt at my face, which wore a shameless, shit-eating smile.

"I'm serious, Edward!" she laughed, scooping a mountain of pancakes on a plate for Emmett when he entered the kitchen. It didn't escape me that her sudden enthusiasm seemed put on. Emmett began scarfing them up without a word. Esme opened her mouth slowly, undoubtedly trying to figure out how to begin the Rosalie/Emmett interrogation, but I eyed her carefully, hoping that she would telepathically realize that she wasn't supposed to know anything about his huge crush on Super-Bitch. That woman must have either been a genius or we did share some sort of telepathy, because she snapped her mouth shut and smiled.

I knocked on Alice's door at noon since I hadn't seen her pawing through my drawers in our shared bathroom or heard her complaining about things as of yet like she usually did. I figured I'd try and give her a head start to look 'hot' or whatever for Jasper, although I couldn't understand why she liked him. Honestly, Jasper was downright creepy. He had this wild blonde hair that looked like he permed it and he was so rail thin that he looked sick. But Alice always liked the artsy boys that would let her play dress-up with them, and Jasper was already emasculated as it was so it seemed almost rational that he was Alice's latest conquest. At least Jasper was my friend, so I wouldn't feel motivated to rub pink icing in his hair.

I tapped at her door politely, trying not to rub salt in the wounds I'd ripped open by intruding in on her last night. "Alice?" I called, "Mom says you're not coming to hang out at Jasper's with Emmett and me today. Change your mind?" I expected her to chirp right up. _ Of course I'm coming, Dickward! _or_ I'll be down in a second, keep your panties on! _But, instead I got…nothing. Weird. This whole fucking house was just plain weird. Reluctantly, I tried the doorknob. Alice would probably kick me. But I knew that if I didn't trying breaking-and-entering, she's miss the little play date…and then kick me. So both ways, I was screwed. But strangely, door was locked for once.

I jogged down the stairs, Emmett already waiting impatiently by the front door and dangling his keys to the Jeep.

"Bye, Esme," I said, pecking her cheek.

"Where's Alice?" Emmett asked, glancing at his watch and then back at me. "We're supposed to be at the house now. The movie starts in a little over an hour and it's a fifty minute drive to Port Angeles."

"I told you. Alice can't come," Esme mumbled, turning and darting into the kitchen. I was fucking tired of her acting all strange like that. I was going to talk to her when we got home. But right then, I had to leave and watch Emmett stare at Rosalie Hale's ass.

Lo and behold, Em managed to slide his tongue down Rose's throat within the first twenty minutes of the movie. Jasper and I just sat awkwardly beside them, fidgeting and exchanging pointed glances.

"Do you fucking mind?" Jasper hissed, giving them his famous stare down. He looked creepy beneath the light of the big screen, his silvery blonde hair fanning out from his face like a lion's mane.

"Shut up Jasper," Emmett growled, grabbing a clump of Rose's hair between his fingers.

"That's my fucking sister, dude," Jasper said more sternly, jabbing a finger into Emmett's shoulder.

"Then leave, man," Emmett murmured distractedly.

So we did. Jasper and I got the hell out of there. We could have taken the car, considering Jasper had the keys, but we weren't big enough assholes to the extent of leaving Em and Rose an hour away from home with no transportation. We settled onto a bench outside the little hole-in-the-wall theater. Jasper's knuckles were clenched, and his teeth were gritted together.

"That was really fucking disgusting," he snarled, almost roaring.

"Whoa, man. Calm down. Let's talk about something else," I said nervously, because Jasper was really tall and really scary. I couldn't picture him with my sister, what with her being tiny and sunshine-y all the time.

"Like _what_?" He spat, eying me suspiciously.

"Like…um…my sister?" It came out as a question. His face softened infinitesimally.

"What about her?" he asked, his voice on the verge of calm.

"Well, what do you think?" This was beyond weird. I felt like I was pimping my own flesh and blood.

"She's cute. I mean, yeah. I'm not trying to make fucking advances on your sister like your fucking brother just did when he pawed my sister right in fucking front of me." His voice roughened, erasing all progress he'd made since attempting to calm down. I felt the need to defend Emmett, but I couldn't think of a plausible argument and I was trying to help Alice out to make up for being such a douche earlier.

"Yeah, um, sorry for that. It's not his fault. He was dropped on the head as a child." Jasper laughed, and I decided joking was the best way to loosen him up. So maybe I could escape with my life. "Anyways, I guess what I'm trying to say is you should ask her out or something."

"I don't really know her much. When she comes over to spend the night with Rose she stays up and talks to me sometimes. She's pretty cool. Why do you mention her?"

_Because she's obsessed with you. Because I read in her diary that she wants to fuck you, which is kind of gross but whatever. Because she stares at you all the time. _

"I don't know. Just a hunch."

"Well, I'll think about it. Maybe. I just, uh, I don't date. Often."

I heard a trace of something in his voice. Could it have been…embarrassment?

"You should. Al is irritating sometimes but she's a lot of fun. I think she likes you." I scratched the back of my neck, rustling my messy hair further into dishevelment.

"Hm," he hummed pensively, looking to his scuffed boots. "I'll think about it," he repeated.

"Okay," I said, and I immediately wished I hadn't. It was such a stupid thing to say, such a half-ass conclusion to a conversation that was fucking stupid in the first place. "Just don't say anything to her about this, alright? She'll hit me," I laughed, realizing how queer I sounded.

"Yeah, sure."

The ride home was silent, and Jasper took his aggression out on the steering wheel. His grip was unrelenting, and his jaw was in a hard line as he stared out the windshield with pure hatred in his dark blue eyes. Rose and Em sat in the back, having the nerve to hold hands and occasionally sending each other text messages in fear of audibly speaking. That shit was so juvenile. I tried fiddling with Jasper's iPod that was plugged into the tape player, but it just seemed to piss him off. I made a mental note to never try anything with Rosalie Hale.

My house was still a ghost house when we got home, and the rain was still pounding down just as hard as it was Thursday after school before my dad picked me up. Em tried talking to Alice again that night before bed prior to Esme telling him to leave her alone. What was the deal? It wasn't just curiosity anymore, it was unadulterated annoyance.

"What's going on, Esme?" I asked firmly. I rarely called her Esme, except for when she was really pissing me off. Like when she accidentally washed my whites with colors, thus turning all of my undershirts pink, and other stupid shit like that.

"Alice is still sick, Edward. Leave her be," she whispered softly, trying not to disturb her as we walked down the hall towards the staircase leading to the third floor. "By the way, can you and Emmett cancel any plans you have for Wednesday?"

"What? Why? Jasper and I were going to some party at this Angela girl's house. Sort of like a school year kick-off and whatnot." _Sort of like a my-parents-aren't-home-so-let's-get-plastered kick-off and whatnot._

"You can still go if you'd like. Just nothing during the day. Your father wants to take you boys out on the boat." I stopped dead in my tracks.

"Dad? Wants to hang out?" I was incredulous. I'm fairly sure my jaw was lying on the floor.

"Yeah. Try not to be so shocked, alright? But he wants you stay at home for the afternoon."

I tried to piece together some sort of logical reasoning for such an occasion, but I got nothing. Emmett was going to be a senior, but that didn't exactly deserve a day with Daddy on the boat. Plus all three of us started school late, so we were starting our junior and senior years at older than a majority of the kids. So that was also undeserving of Dear Daddy's attention. It was also so unlike him to even consider missing a day at the hospital. He was more married to his work than he was to Esme. I was puzzled.

"Um, okay," was all I could muster before climbing the stairs to my bedroom. I tried to come up with a list of reasons that my dad was finally taking a sudden interest in 'bonding' with Emmett and I. Most of them involved homicide, a few including drug scandals and a couple having to do with prostitutes or even all three. Crack cocaine was on the mind as I crept into unconsciousness.

That night, I dreamt that my father pushed me over the railing of his boat. I shuttered as I brushed my teeth the next morning. It sounded like something he might do.

**A/N: I wish I could just have Alice tell Edward right away. It's sad knowing what's going on with Carlisle before he does, but it will all work out in due time.**


	3. Alice, Resurrected

**A/N: this one's a shortie. Switches between APOV and EPOV, but a new post will come later on today if anyone is reading this at all :) SMeyer owns.**

**Alice POV**

I wasn't sure what time of day it was. I was too tired to roll over and look at the clock, but I couldn't shut my eyes and turn my mind off for long enough to drift into a sleep. My phone was in my palm, my fingers wrapped around it's face, still dead and uncharged since the power shut off. I was staring at the outlet across the room that had my charger plugged in, but couldn't motivate myself to move. I knew this was immature, that life happens and you're supposed to just take it as it comes. But I hadn't cried in a few hours and I was considering my minor victory as enough progress for the day. I wasn't going to try and push it with physical activity.

I opened my eyes when I felt a weight shift at the foot of my bed. Esme sat there, a sad smile on her lips and her caramel-colored hair swept messily off her face in a barrette. A tray of food perched precariously on her lap.

"Hey, sweetheart," she crooned. "Are you hungry?" Her eyes were swollen, and I could tell she had been crying. Luckily Carlisle was still at work rather than having to see us like this.

"Kind of." My voice scared me. It was raspy and hollow, almost dead-sounding. My throat was raw like I'd been screaming, despite the fact that I hadn't spoken in two days. Esme had made me some soup and cut up an apple for me. It made me want to cry all over again at her consideration. I sipped the soup from a silver spoon carefully as Esme stared at my face.

"You need to pull yourself together, honey," she whispered, brushing my cheek with her cold fingertips. "The boys are getting suspicious."

"How bad was it?" I asked hoarsely. I didn't need to explain what I meant.

"With your father? He was upset, needless to say," She looked down to her lap. "He wanted to be the one to tell you. I was going to take you to Port Angeles tomorrow so he could tell your brothers first." The soup burned my raw throat.

"Why did he choose for them to know first? Doesn't he think I'm strong enough?" My voice was pitiful.

"Your reaction is confirming his worst fears and suspicions, Al," she whispered, obviously trying not to hurt my feelings.

"I know," I relented. "I guess this moping isn't really helping." My eyes welled up with tears and I swatted them away angrily. Esme grabbed my hand.

"Pull it together. You need to hold it together, just for a little while. Tomorrow, Edward and Emmett will know, and it's going to get harder. But you need to hold it together for your dad."

"What is it, exactly? Is he scared to talk to me about it?"

"No, that's not it. He is just sort of uncomfortable about it. But, um, he has lymphatic cancer. You know what that is, right?" He voice thickened, her face tightening in a sort of grimace.

"Not particularly. What are his chances?" I figured it was best to get it over with. I hated stuff like this. It was stuffy and emotional and…so not me. I wanted to rewind a week and be in Rose's living room painting my fingernails and catching glimpses of Jasper on his way in and out of the kitchen.

"Well he's got something called Non-Hodgkin lymphoma, which is common I guess. So maybe that's a good thing. But he was really frustrated that he never really noticed anything that wasn't normal. He'd been tired, but he figured that he was just working too many hours. And for about a month he had really bad night sweats but I convinced him it was the air conditioner. All the weight loss stuff sort of just added up, too. It was only five pounds, but you know how he's a health nut, so it wasn't too suspicious." She composed herself, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and meeting my gaze.

"So what, was he getting just a normal check-up?"

"Yeah, pretty much. The doctor--it was Dr. Snow, actually—basically had to tell him the news. He says that your dad's just got the rough end of the stick. He's ridiculously optimistic." She must have read my mind, because she snatched my phone from my hand and crossed the room to plug it into the wall. "So unlike you," she laughed with dry humor, "to ever have your phone off." I shrugged with a half-smile.

"How long does he have, Esme?"

"Depends. They caught it pretty early on. Carlisle wasn't even complaining about swollen lymph nodes or anything. They're going to start him on chemo, I think."

"He's going to lose all his hair," I choked, imagining my dad's usually golden head bare.

"Yeah," Esme sighed. "Yeah, he is." Her façade broke then, and she allowed a few tears to slip from her eyes. Emotions weren't really attached to these tears; her face remained composed and her lips were unmoving and relaxed. I clutched her shoulders, leaning into my mother and crying tears of my own. It was so sappy and utterly sentimental, but for the first time in a long time, I really _loved_ my mother.

**EDWARD POV**

Tuesday rolled by seamlessly. I mostly fooled around in my room all day, messing around with my laptop and even stooping as low as having short and mediocre phone sex with Jessica Stanley. Jasper had hooked up with her when he was a sophomore and she was in my freshman class, and I kind of took her in when he discarded her. Jasper was like that. He didn't date often, he just 'saw' girls, whatever that meant, and dumped them if they didn't put out or just didn't put out well enough. Hopefully he wouldn't try anything on my sister. But I wouldn't get my hopes up.

Emmett beat me several times at some stupid game he'd suckered Carlisle into buying for the X-box, and Esme made us sandwiches. I wondered why she wasn't at work, where she usually was on weekdays, but decided not to ask due to her recently constant crabbiness. She eventually drifted off into her bedroom, shutting the door. I wondered about her when I heard the soft click of the lock, but my attention wasn't held for long as our giant plasma roared to life for another X-box round.

The only thing that happened on Tuesday to even remotely catch my interest was the appearance of Alice at the top of the stairs. It was like the Second Coming. I heard my car crash in the video game as I gaped up at her, my mouth hanging over like a fucking idiot. It was just my sister, after all, coming forth from some weirdo PMS-y temper tantrum. But it was amazing all the same.

"Alice! Resurrected!" Emmett roared stupidly from the black leather couch. He slapped his fist to the cushion beside him, inviting her to sit. Her face was bleached pale, make-up free and frail looking. Her lips weren't covered in their usually shiny peach stuff, and her hair was kind of dull and looked a little dirty. She looked like a train wreck.

"What the hell happened to you?" I asked as she sat, curling her legs underneath her. She stuck her tongue out at me and flipped me the bird. _Well, nothing's changed there._

"Nothing, Edward. How kind of you to ask." Her snide remark wasn't lacking in effort and enthusiasm, and I almost smiled at how normal she was being.

"What was up with you going all AWOL since Sunday?" Emmett asked, starting a new game. "Oh and Edward, I totally beasted your ass, by the way."

"You crashed too, dumb ass," I spat, my eyes dragging from Alice's face back to the television screen.

"I got sick, like Esme said," she insisted.

"That's her story and she's sticking to it, Em," I said with a chuckle. "I've been trying to figure it out for days and I haven't gotten anywhere."

The three of us sat there in near-silence, sans the occasional expletive from Emmett and scoff from Alice.


	4. New Girl

**ALICE POV**

"Would you at least fucking talk to me?" I asked, taking my eyes away from the road to look at my twin brother. He rolled his green eyes, turning his face to look out the window. We drove through the rain-slicked streets of downtown Forks on our way to our loathed high school in complete stillness, the air conditioner buzzing quietly. "You can't just quit talking to me," I insisted.

"Wanna bet?" he remarked smartly, still staring at the passing buildings.

"This isn't my fault, Edward. Even Emmett's over it."

"That's because Emmett isn't your twin fucking brother. You don't even talk to Emmett that much. I even tried to talk to you like…twice. You at least owe me some sort of fucking explanation." It was a sick thing, but I was pleased that Edward was at least speaking to me, even if he was yelling and cursing. He had been avoiding me for almost five days.

"But Emmett is still my brother, Edward. And yes, I do talk to him. You make it sound like you and I are BFF and I kept some deep, dark secret from you." He rolled his eyes and mumbled something, his grip on his own knee tightening. "But I only knew a few days before you. You can't hate me for not telling you something that wasn't mine to tell."

"Quit the fucking shit, Alice. I'm not interested."

And that was it for the conversation.

Esme and I went on our dutiful Port Angeles shopping trip, buying useless things that we'd never wear and wasting as much time as possible. We knew the house would be a concentration camp when we got home. Carlisle and the boys were probably home by then, and we regretted not trying to beat them there. Today was the day that Carlisle was going to tell them. He still hadn't made any attempt to talk to me about it; I think he was hoping Esme's explanation would suffice. But we were scared.

Emmett would be sad. But he'd hide it at least, shrugging it off and clapping Carlisle on the back, wishing him luck and telling him he'd be there for him. He wouldn't be mad at me, because he probably wouldn't have expected me to tell him. It was Edward I had been concerned about. It was Edward who was so obsessed with the family loyalty twin bonding shit. School was about to start, and Edward didn't handle heavy things like that with any particular sense of grace and poise. Edward was the angry one out of my brothers. Jasper and Emmett were his closest things to friends, and people at school sort of avoided him. It wasn't because he was frightening or tough or anything, he was just always very distant. Ben Cheney was an acquaintance, and he and Edward occasionally went to see a movie or ventured off to some random kegger together. But I didn't know how Edward would handle starting off a new school year knowing that his dad was dying. He was jaded and spoiled and hadn't a care in the world. Until now. And I knew I would have hell to pay for not telling him.

I tried to get up the stairs as quickly as possible, my shopping bags slapping against my legs as I bolted towards my bedroom. But something stopped me dead in my tracks. It was Carlisle's study. There was light coming from the doorway, which was odd, because he always had the door closed. And as I approached it, I noticed something else peculiar. Light was coming out to the hallway because a giant hole was gauged from the center of the white wooden door. Beside all of the wood shavings and rubble was a giant wood saw and my brother, Edward. And Edward was crying.

Edward wasn't just letting out little pussy, frustrated tears. Edward was _sobbing_. He was choking out deep, pained sobs from his chest, his face all screwed up in a folded mess as he slid his feet roughly against the wooden floor with frustrated anger. His fingers flexed slowly, whimpers escaping through his gritted teeth and he grasped at his scalp with one hand. Then he saw me.

Before I could do anything, he was to his feet, smacking at his tears with the back of his hands.

"What _the fuck_, Alice!" he screamed. His intonation reverberated off the walls, and I heard Emmett shift behind his closed bedroom door over my shoulder. I decided to play dumb.

"What are you talking about, Edward? And what the hell did you do to Carlisle's door?" I set my bags down on the floor and looked up at his face, which was dripping with tears against his will.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he begged, ignoring my question. "Why didn't you tell _me_? You know I would tell you in a second. But you lied. You hid until my own _father_ had to tell me he's fucking quitting on us." I leaned towards him to touch his arm, but he pulled away with a hiss.

"Edward, I didn't know—''

"Oh, hell Alice. You didn't know? You didn't know? So is that why you hid in your little bedroom from me for three days? Because you didn't know? God, you're a stupid bitch."

His words stung me as if I'd been slapped. He took a sharp kick to the wood saw, and I had to jump to avoid collision with it. It ricocheted off the molding of the opposite wall and skidded down the hallway before wedging into the wall. I heard Esme's bedroom door quietly shut from the floor below.

"I know you're angry. I know you're mad at me. But this isn't my fault. I was supposed to find out from Mom today just like you, but she accidentally told." My eyebrows pulled together as I tried again to touch him.

"That's no excuse," he said, backing away again. "Did you do this to me because I went through your things? Because I told Jasper you accidentally hooked up with Mike Newton that one time? Is it because of the pink icing thing when we were thirteen?" He didn't even to wipe the tears teeming from his eyes anymore. I hardly noticed that now I had tears of my own.

"Of course not! This has nothing to do with anything you've ever done to me, or vice versa. This was me trying to protect you. I know you're my brother and you try to watch out for me, but this time, I had to try." He laughed bitterly.

"God forbid little Edward has to deal with something that fucking sucks. Not that everything else in my life doesn't suck, too." I wanted to grab him and hold him and smooth his hair like I did when he got hurt when we were little. His bottom lip was quivering and the redness of his eyes made the green of his irises eerie and wild.

"I'm so sorry. I thought you'd understand. I'm so sorry."

Those were the last words spoken, even when we stood side-by-side at the sinks in the morning and even when we sat next to each other at the dinner table. Esme somehow managed to be at home every night that week, and after so many failed attempts at pleasant conversation, our home grew completely silent at all times. I felt badly for Emmett. He was the only one who seemed fairly accepting and he was trying to make it better, but to no avail. His brown eyes were no longer playful, and his optimism was fading as quickly as it had come. Carlisle purposely picked up extra shifts and stayed away from us. Guilt ate away at me; it seemed unfair that the person actually suffering from an illness was put on the backburner as his family crumbled to pieces due to their own selfishness. Carlisle was the one dying, but we all managed to act like we were. That Sunday night, the night before the first day of my junior year, I grew a new feeling on top of the Russian roulette of all the ones I'd already been feeling. It was jealousy.

As I tiptoed up to bed, I saw the muted light coming from the hole in Carlisle's office door. I still wondered why Edward had taken the time to carve a hole in the study door of all things, but that notion passed as I heard Emmett's voice resonate from inside the room. Inching quietly towards the doorframe, I shamelessly eavesdropped.

"I'm here for you, Dad. I want you to know that." Emmett's voice was thick with emotion.

"I know, son. That means so much to me, you don't even know." My stomach dipped when I heard Carlisle's shaking voice and realized that my father was crying.

"We're going to fight this. You don't have to do it by yourself."

"I do, though. Esme can't handle this." Carlisle inhaled sharply, his throat raspy.

"You still have us, Dad. Al and Edward, you know. And me." I heard a smack, Emmett clapping him on the back? Maybe the shoulder?

"Alice, maybe. Edward, definitely not. You saw how he was last week when he found out. He hates me," he choked. I wanted to hug him, but I wanted to smack him. _Maybe? _He'd said that I _maybe_ would be there for him? I deserved more credit than that.

"I don't think that you give Esme enough credit. She'll hold us all together. Remember in third grade when my hermit crab died? I cried for days and days. And Mom made me smiley-face pancakes every single day until I eventually forgot all about it."

"You're relating lymphoma to a hermit crab? You are truly a diamond in the rough, Em." Carlisle let out a humorless laugh.

"I know, I know. But at least I'm trying. Edward will come around. He's just mad Alice never told us. I don't really blame her, though. She's tough, Dad. I think she's in it for the long run."

"I hope so, son. I hope so."

I couldn't listen anymore.

**

I parked my Volvo in our usual spot, thankful that any underclassmen didn't think it a good idea to park there. Emmett always insisted on driving separate from us for reasons unknown, and I wanted to laugh when I saw him pull his stupid white Jeep up beside us.

"Senior year, motherfucker!" he shouted moronically, slapping Jasper a high-five as he approached. Despite my recent woes and heartache, Jasper never did fail to make me swoon. The boy had chosen the tightest, dark blue skinny pants to debut on the first day of school that did him no justice. Emmett materialized a can of black spray paint, hastily scrawling something on the white dividing wall in front of our parking spots. _Cullen Parking Zone_, it read, _All underclassmen will be ass-whipped. _Edward stifled a laugh, forgetting he was supposed to be angsty and brooding.

"Emmett!" I shrieked. "You'll get suspended!"

"Blame it on Newton," he shrugged, shoving the can back in his backpack.

"And why in the hell would Mike Newton want to write a 'Cullen parking space' warning on the divider?"

"Why the hell would Mike Newton do anything that he does?" Emmett's reasoning was completely messed up. I wondered how he was still functioning in society after eighteen years. I grabbed my bag from the trunk as someone caught my elbow. I turned, thinking it was Edward trying to be rational or something. But to my intense surprise, Jasper Hale's blue eyes were baring into mine.

"Walk you to class?" he asked with a little smirk. I had to remember to breathe. I glanced at Edward, who was still sulking like a damn girl, and then nodded eagerly. Anything was better than walking to class with someone who hated me, especially when that someone was my own brother. And _especially_ since the someone who'd just offered a nice alternative was Jasper Hale.

"Ditching me, Sissy?" Edward called sarcastically, his voice laced with an extra, Rosalie-sized dosage of venom.

"It's like you read my mind," I replied over my shoulder, wrapping my hand around the crook of Jasper's arm.

Jasper didn't talk much. Usually, that would have bothered me. But today, it was perfect. We were sort of opposites, in the sense that Jasper was extremely introverted and kind of intimidating where I was…not. But I had more or less spent the week prior to the first day sulking in my bedroom away from my mom, away from my brother, and most of all, away from Carlisle. And hearing him talk to Emmett the night before in his study had cracked an additional hole in my heart. I wanted him to trust me and hold on to me, but I knew I didn't deserve it. I'd been a jerk to my father for my entire existence, resenting the hell out of him for no particular reason other than because of his frequent absence. But it was kind of messed up, considering I knew people whose dads had pretty much walked out on them and didn't even care enough to check in on occasions such as birthdays and Christmases. My friend, Angela's dad left her before she was even born, and she'd never met him. I understood that shit happens. It just does. But I never expected it to happen to me. And Edward's building anxiety wasn't helping at all. It was nice, however, to see Emmett falling back into the swing of things after only knowing for less than a week.

"I'll see you after first hour, okay?" Jasper's gravelly voice broke me from my reverie. I uttered a barely audible agreement before shuffling into my Spanish class.

"Alice Cullen!" Ms. Goff smiled, extending a handful of worksheets. "These are for you. Put them in your notebook designated for this class, we're going to try and get right down to work."

"Thanks, Ms. Goff," I muttered, taking the paper and looking to find a seat. I was late, which was unlike me, but I was unlike myself a lot lately. The only open seat, other than one next to Eric Yorkie, was by an unfamiliar girl with pale skin and shiny, brown hair. I wanted to steal it and replace it with mine, or at least play with it. I slung my bag over the back of my chair and sat down as Eric Yorkie's hopeful face fell.

Ms. Goff started the class off, and consequently the entire year, with solid Spanish and no English speaking whatsoever. It made my head spin, but I was able to flawlessly keep up as I took notes in my uniform print.

_Escriba unas pocas oraciones que describen su casa y su familia. ¡Utilice muchos adjetivos!_

_Write a few sentences describing your home life and your family. Use plenty of adjectives!_

I began considering the assignment. Would Ms. Goff prefer the condensed version, or the truth? _Well, Ms. Goff, my dad just got diagnosed with cancer and will most likely die, my twin brother hates me and the only reason that my older brother doesn't is because he doesn't have the mental capacity to. Oh, and my dad, you know, the one who's dying? Well he may or may not hate me. _Yeah, she would definitely prefer the abridged version.

"Um, do you have any 0.5 millimeter lead?" A soft voice distracted me from my cynical and sort of fucked up daydream as I glanced up to meet the brown eyes of my desk mate. "I ran out," she stuttered quickly. "Sorry."

"No, I don't care. I might just have 0.7 but I'll check." I rummaged through my bag to find lead for Random New Weird Girl, but to no avail. "My bad," I shrugged. "You can borrow a pen if you want."

"N-no. It's fine. I don't like to finish assignments using a different writing utensil than I started them in," she stammered, biting her bottom lip. Weird Girl was a trip. "That's really weird, I know. Sorry."

"Kind of, yeah," I laughed, looking back to my notebook to answer the next question. "I'm Alice, by the way," I added after a few uncomfortable moments of silence.

"Alice? Cool. I like that movie _Alice in Wonderland_. You know that one?"

"Um, yeah," I laughed again, glancing at her worriedly. "Isn't that like a Disney movie?"

"Well, yeah. But I like it all the same." She began wringing her fingers nervously, and I began to wonder if the poor girl was on meds or something.

"Do you have a name?" I asked rudely after she seemingly decided that our conversation was over.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, hastily reaching over to grasp my hand in a haphazard handshake and knocking over her water bottle in the process. "I'm Bella. Bella Swan."

**EDWARD POV**

I regretted in that instant ever praising Alice's fucking name to Jasper fucking Hale. I watched them walk away, Alice grinning like a thirteen-year-old and Jasper in his skintight fucking jeans. It was disgusting.

"Oh, man up, Cullen," Emmett's voice rumbled as he elbowed me in the shoulder blade. I'd forgotten that he was still behind me. "Don't get all sad because your sister decided to walk to class with a boy that she wasn't blood-related to."

"Fuck off, Emmett," I growled, slinging my bag over my shoulder and locking the Volvo. Alice had even left her door wide open.

"Re-lax, bro. I'll walk you to your little class if you'll dry your tears and take your tutu off." I wanted to hit him. So I did.

"Jesus, Edward. Knock it off. That kind of hurt," he complained, rubbing at his jaw.

"Good," I chuckled, climbing the stairs. I looked back at Emmett to make some other smart-aleck remark, but the look on his face distracted me. His mouth was wide open, revealing his back molars, and his eyes were wide. He looked like a blind man seeing for the first time, and I almost smacked him to make sure he hadn't gone into some epileptic shock or something. But then I saw what he was gaping at. And I'm not going to lie, I fucking gaped too.

Rosalie Hale stood alone in the center of the courtyard, bent over her purple book bag that sat on the ground, rummaging for something. And it was a fucking sight to behold. Despite the fact that the girl was bitch-tacular and could probably kill me blindfolded with both hands tied behind her back, she was looking particularly edible. Emmett let out an ear-piercing whistle, Rosalie turning her head at a whiplash-inducing speed and a smile grazing her plump lips. Her jeans looked painted on and her blonde hair fell in perfect ringlets to her impossibly thin waist. I had to look away as she crossed the quad to Emmett, determining that I would never allow Rosalie Hale to give me a boner if it was the last thing I did.

"What's going on, Edward?" she asked in a bored voice, smacking her gum annoyingly and popping it for unnecessary, attention-seeking reasons. I swallowed and took a deep breath as I turned to look her in the face, giving myself a two-second pep talk and willing my pants to stay loose. Emmett's hands were shoved into her back pockets and his tongue was in her ear, so I didn't necessarily need the pep talk to stay in control. Emmett draped around any hot girl was enough to make me gag. Without answering her question, I turned on my heel to my next class.

I had English, which was impossibly easy for me considering that I was the only kid in Forks High School who ever seemed to complete the summer reading list. I liked to read, legitimately, and Ms. Berry loved me for it.

Funny story: Once Ms. Berry gave me back a report I did on _Romeo and Juliet_ with a two-paged note attached. The note included her review of my paper, followed by her favorite, particularly passionate scenes from the Shakespearian play and concluded the letter with her phone number and a post-script that read simply, "If you don't tell, I won't." Emmett had that shit framed and hanging on his wall. Emmett and all of his stupid friends wouldn't shut the hell up about the fact that a teacher practically begged for it from me, and an attractive teacher at that. Ms. Berry still blushed when it was my turn during our weekly poetry reading.

I knew eventually I'd have to forgive Alice. I didn't want to, but I really didn't like many other people at school other than her. Emmett seemed to have some kind of weird almost-relationship but mainly sexual thing going on with Rose that I _really_ didn't want to get in the middle of, and Jasper was my friend but in truth, the kid moved too quickly and it scared the shit out of me. Ben started dating Angela, whose party I never made it to after I freaked the fuck out that Wednesday, so that friendship was sort of down the drain. And Mike Newton…well…hell no. I thought of ways to apologize as Ms. Berry droned on. I was going to have to drop that class and take a senior AP if she didn't stop trying to fucking flirt with me every time she gave me back a graded paper.

The bell rang, and I shot up from my seat before Ms. Berry decided it was a good idea to try and catch up with me after the summer break. Alice wasn't hard to find, I just simply had to find her little spiky black head among the tiny student body. She was in the middle of the courtyard, where Rose had been this morning wearing those sinfully tight pants, and she was talking to some chick I didn't know. I marched towards her, already prepared to receive some name-calling and possibly a kick to the shin.

"Alice," I started, "I need to talk to you."

"Edward, don't interrupt. Bella was just telling a story and you cut her off. Say you're sorry." Alice's lips tightened and she put a hand on her hip.

"Sorry," I muttered dismissively. Already, she wasn't making this easy. The Bella girl turned to look at me, her thin eyebrows knit in confusion. Her eyes were cinnamon-colored, and she looked really fucking nervous.

"It's fine. It was stupid, anyway," she explained. "I was just talking about how my mom and I used to make rain sticks out of paper towel rolls and chinchilla droppings."

I snorted. She had to be kidding. Her blank stare told me she wasn't. _Fucking Psycho._

"Anyways, Alice, let's put this whole Dad thing behind us. We don't need to talk about it and I'll stop being a dick to you and all that stuff." Her face screwed up in annoyance—she obviously didn't want Weird Chinchilla New Girl to know about our family problems. And I had obviously forgotten over the summer that at school, Alice was the girl who had it all together. No one other than her family and Rose and Jasper knew she had problems, and she wanted to keep it that way.

"It's fine, Edward. Don't bring it up anymore," she said, clearing her throat and smearing some goopy stuff on her lips that smelled like birthday cake. "What class do you have next?"

"AP Chem.," I answered, glancing at my schedule and making awkward eye contact with Chinchilla Girl.

"Me too," she muttered, the right side of her mouth pulling up slightly.

"Well that makes three of us," Alice huffed, slugging her giant bag purse thing over her shoulder. "Let's get this over with."

**ALICE POV**

Bella was my little tag-along for the remainder of the day. I wasn't sure if this was a slowly forming routine of sorts, but I didn't really mind. She seemed to have a bad case of nervous word vomit, and I figured that within time she'd stop saying the first thing to pop into her head. At least I hoped so.

Jasper sat with us at lunch. Edward told me in Chemistry that he though Jasper was interested, and I was elated. He'd been around forever, for as long as I was friends with Rose, which was a very long time. I found it odd that I was never particularly interested in him growing up, but it seemed kind of rational--natural, even--for me to develop an interest. Rose didn't know that I liked him, though, and I planned to keep it like that for a while. It usually was just Edward, Rose, Angela, Ben Cheney, Jessica Stanley, Tyler Crawley and I at the table, but now Emmett was basically intertwined with Rose right in front of me and Jasper had decided to wander over. I was livid at the sight of fucking disgusting Emmett tangled up with my best friend. My _brother_ and my b_est friend_. I suddenly didn't feel so nervous about telling Rose about Jasper, just to give her a taste of her own medicine. I was mad that Rose hadn't thought to tell me that she was with my brother, or at least fucking him, but then I realized that I'd sort of been on emotional lockdown for the past week. To my great surprise, Jasper began rubbing the back of my neck with his thumb and his pointer finger in a hasty attempt to calm me down, but it was sort of ruined when everyone's eyes zeroed in on us.

_Alice Cullen? Chipper, stylish Alice Cullen and the creepy dark guy? Really?_

Edward scoffed, shoving a spoonful of macaroni and cheese into his mouth. He was trying to be pleasant since his semi-apology on the quad after first hour, but I assumed that all the random new PDA was disturbing to him. He seemed to be irritated even further when Bella plopped down in Jessica's usual seat, which was right next to him.

"Hey," she breathed, setting down her tray. I wondered briefly if she dieted, because she had tiny legs, and all that balanced on her tray was a bottle of water and a plate of celery.

"Well, hi there. Who are you?" Rose was the only one to answer her muffled greeting. I smiled despite myself at the big picture. Bella was shaking with nerves in her oversized jacket as Rose, the epitome of beautiful, lounged against her boyfriend with muscles the size of Arkansas. Rose snapped her gum while Bella tried to form a coherent sentence.

"Um, I-I'm—,"

"Spit it out, honey," Rosalie spat, an uninterested look on her face. Bella just mumbled and stuttered some more, an ant under Rose's magnifying glass.

"Bella," Edward blurted. "Her name's Bella. Jesus, Rose." Rosalie just laughed and traced a design on the tabletop with a perfectly manicured finger.

"Nice to meet you, Bells." Her catty smile indicated that it was _not_ nice to meet her. Not at all.

It got worse when Jessica walked up, a tray piled with food in her hands and a scowl on her face.

"Clean your face up, Stanley," Rosalie remarked. "You look ugly when you do that." Emmett tried to stifle a laugh. Jessica ignored her, which was probably a wise decision.

"What the fuck is going on? Who are you?" she asked pointedly, glaring at the back of Bella's shiny brown head.

"What? What's going on?" Bella was pitiful, and a little pathetic. She had relaxed a little bit after Edward had interceded to Rosalie on her behalf, and she had even began participating in some of the shallow conversation we had started. But now her head was snapping back and forth, left and right, looking to all of us for help or at least some sort of explanation.

"Um, you're sitting in my fucking seat, _that's_ what's going on." Jessica slammed her tray down on Bella's empty one, nudging the back of Bella's chair forcefully with her knee.

"Calm the fuck down, Stanley," Edward grumbled. He was all-too helpful when it came to Bella today.

"You're supposed to save this seat for me, Edward. Like always," Jessica pouted, her eyes softening a bit. Edward's shoulders tensed.

"Yeah. That was last year. You'll have to get someone else to save you a seat now. Bella is sitting here." Bella glanced at him thankfully as she sunk lower and lower into her chair. Jessica's jaw dropped, and for a minute she looked as if she would cry.

"Fine," she replied curtly, grabbing her tray from in front of Bella. "I'll just sit somewhere else I guess."

"Don't let the door hit your fat ass on the way out, Stanley," Rose cackled, Emmett planting his lips onto the top of her head.

For the first time since I'd met her, Bella laughed.


	5. Cape Disappointment

**BELLA POV**

_Edward Cullen. Cullen, Edward. Focus, Bella. What are you doing? Focus._

"We will be doing Classic intensive in this course, starting with early twentieth century classics, such as Steinbeck and Plath, so make sure to pick up a copy of _The Grapes of Wrath_ and _The Bell Jar_." Mr. Montgomery's voice faded in and out as I forced myself to pay attention.

_Edward Cullen and his shiny bronze hair. Edward Cullen and the sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Edward Cullen and his gorgeous green eyes._

It was like middle school all over again. Alice sat beside me, scribbling down our reading list in her uniform script as Mr. Montgomery droned on and on while I fantasized like a pubescent tween about her twin brother. It was beyond creepy. And of all people, I needed to pay extra close attention this first week since I was the new kid. I already kind of ruined everything with the talk of chinchilla rain sticks and stealing Jessica Stanley's seat at lunch. And I'd tripped and fallen down the concrete steps leading to the parking lot after school. My car wouldn't start, and Emmett Cullen had to give me a ride home. It was beyond uncomfortable, considering I didn't even know him, and my arm was throbbing from the spill I took the entire way. Emmett was nice enough, though, making amiable conversation about off-roading and his favorite bands, where he wanted to go to college and his favorite professional sports teams. Alice and Edward had some sort of family business to take care of, so I reluctantly tore my eyes away from Edward's face and climbed into Emmett's menacing white Jeep. My weathered, red Chevy stood alone in the parking lot, and I mentally kicked myself for not having Charlie check the engine out before I tried to drive it to school. This morning I'd had to swallow my pride by accepting a ride in the cruiser.

"Towards the end of first semester you'll need to bring in your collection of shorter stories from the eighteenth and nineteenth century. We're doing things a little out of order. You can either buy those at Thunderbird and Whale in Port Angeles or check them out at the library. Make sure to have all of the Hemingway items by second quarter." Mr. Montgomery was cut off from his speech by the shrill ring of the bell, and my mind was free to think about Edward Cullen all that I wanted.

_Edward Cullen shirtless. _

Think of the devil, and the devil shall appear.

"Hey ladies, miss me?" Edward planted a kiss on Alice's cheek as he popped up behind us, skipping to my side. _Yes._

"Could you be any more attention-seeking?" Alice asked, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, actually," Edward replied, flicking her arm.

"So, turning the subject away from you for once," Alice snorted, "I think we should hang out at Rose's after school today. You in, Swan?"

"Who, me?" I squeaked, hugging my English text to my chest.

"Do you know of any _other_ Swans?" Edward mocked rhetorically. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, sure. I'm in."

Why not?

**

"Chief Swan, speaking." I had called my father as soon as last hour let out after my second, treacherous day of school, half hoping that he'd let me go over to Rose's to hang out with Edward and half hoping that he wouldn't. Because, let's face it, I was a disaster waiting to happen.

"Dad, it's me," I sighed into the receiver.

"Oh, hey, kiddo. What's going on? Is there an emergency?"

"Nope. Just wondering if I could hang out with some kids from school for a few hours or so." I tried to make my voice sound confident and certain, but truthfully, I was scared out of my mind. Primarily because the festivities were being held at the home of the two most terrifying people I'd ever laid eyes on. And also because I wasn't yet past my awkward stage, what with being new and all.

"Uh, yeah, I guess that's fine. Whose house?" It was like Charlie to be skeptical. He was chief of police, after all.

"You know Rosalie and Jasper Hale? Their house." Charlie hummed.

"They're good kids. Be careful with the older boy, though. He's a little funny…" Charlie didn't have to elaborate for me to know what he meant.

"I know, dad. I'll be careful. Alice says she'll drop me by home after." I thought again of my Chevy sitting lifeless in my driveway.

I had moved to Washington to live with my dad, and I was still trying to decide whether or not it was a good idea. My mom, Renee, had married a dirt bag who thought he was some expert ball player, so she was chasing him around the country and boosting his already soaring ego. I honestly couldn't stomach it. Regardless of the fact that Phil is almost ten years my mother's junior, he was always sort of rude to me, bossing me around and telling me what to do regardless of the fact that he is barely even ten years _older_ than me. So I moved out. Charlie was ecstatic, clearing out my childhood room for me and even going as far as buying me a new car, despite the small detail that it was now unusable. I'd never factored Edward Cullen into the equation. In fact, I'd never factored in any other _people_, period. I was a loner by nature.

I had stood there on the first day in the courtyard like a complete moron, rambling on and on about my stupid, boring life while Edward stood there like a shrine to some forgotten pagan god of beauty. It was beyond embarrassing. I had always been thought of as weird at my school in Phoenix, and although I had a small group of friends, I saw how they'd look at me sometimes. Down their noses, or out of the corners of their eyes, in complete and total condescension. And right then, that was how Edward Cullen was looking at me. My cheeks flamed red with an uncomfortable blush, and I prayed that he would let it go and forget that I even said anything.

_I was just talking about how my mom and I used to make rain sticks out of paper towel rolls and chinchilla droppings. _Seriously, Bella?

I'd tried to redeem myself throughout the rest of the first day and the second, but I wasn't sure how much progress I was making. I sat next to Edward at the lunch table under everyone's watching eyes, even though he didn't speak one word to me. I had pre-Cal with him before lunch and Government after that, but still there was no progress on the talking thing. So maybe the little ounce of hope that I held for Edward Cullen ever possibly being interested was all in vain. I was…well…me, and he was…the complete opposite. I didn't even really know him, not at all. Probably because I was the Weird Chinchilla Girl, and he was too good for that.

EPOV

It wasn't a good idea to go to Rose's after school. I eyed Alice carefully, trying to send her some creepy twin telepathic message that had seemed to work with Esme that one time, but I guess it didn't work as well as I'd thought it would.

School was a nice escape. I could go there, be "Edward Fucking Cullen" with the shiny bronze hair and good grades, and kind of forget about my life for seven hours. It was nice. But then, after that, I had to start dealing with life. And that part fucking sucked.

"Could you be any more attention-seeking?" Alice had asked, her eyes rolling around once as she sneered at me.

"Yes, actually," I snorted. I gave her arm a flick for good measure.

"So, turning the subject away from you for once," Alice laughed derisively, "I think we should hang out at Rose's after school today. You in, Swan?" Bad idea. First of all, Bella at Rose's house was like a deer in the middle of the road on a dark night. I wanted to laugh at how ridiculous even entertaining the notion was. Secondly, I just wanted to go home. Where Alice, Emmett, and I _should_ have been.

"Who, me?" Bella almost squealed, pulling her books in towards her tits.

"Do you know of any _other_ Swans?" I chuckled, trying to avert my eyes from her fairly nice chest. Bella snickered. I hope it wasn't because she caught me looking. But in the back of my mind, I hoped she'd say no. I hoped she'd say that she had other things to do, because her confirmation would just motivate Alice to spend hours upon hours wasting our dad's life at Rose's.

"Yeah, sure. I'm in." Fuck you, Bella Swan.

**

There had been a pounding at my door, and the color of the light that sifted through the wood blinds indicated that it was very, very early. I rubbed my eyes with my fists, rolling over to face my bedroom door.

"What?" I called groggily, swinging my legs of the side of my wrought-iron bed. 4:45 AM, my clock read.

"Open the door, dude, we've gotta go," Emmett called in a deep, clear voice. He sounded like he'd been awake for a while.

_Christ._

It was Wednesday, and I'd forgotten all about the stupid father/son bonding shit we were supposed to do that day. I had no idea where we were going, just that we were taking the boat out, and I didn't know where we'd take it that required consciousness at that ungodly hour. We obviously weren't going anywhere close, like Cape Alava or Cape Flattery.

"We're going to Cape Disappointment," Emmett answered my question unknowingly. "We'll either go there or drive down closer to Portland to Cape Lookout." Portland? Five hours in a fucking car with Carlisle. Oh, joy.

I dressed in a hurry, opting for a black hoodie and dark jeans to fit the weather. How we were going to enjoy the boat in the middle of a fucking hurricane, I still wasn't sure. Emmett was elated, of course. The kid literally skipped down the stairs, whistling. I wished I had his enthusiasm, but, then again, I didn't. Because it was fucking annoying.

"Ah, Edward," Carlisle called when I padded barefoot into the kitchen. "Have a waffle," he offered.

"Um, okay." Why did talking to my own dad feel so unnatural? He looked at me carefully with his bright blue eyes, scrutinizing my face.

"So, Dad, what's it going to be?" Emmett's voice interrupted Carlisle's evaluation of my facial hair, thankfully. "Disappointment or Lookout?" Carlisle chewed on his bottom lip in thought.

"Disappointment's probably our best bet. It will save us an hour in the car and I heard it's not supposed to rain there today. Besides, I'd rather stay in-state." I concurred. This whole thing was already too much for me, and I didn't know if I could handle Oregon today.

The car ride was long and toiling, but Em obviously had no trouble communicating with our father. Em's hatred of Carlisle had kind of spurned on mine—Emmett influenced me in more ways that he thought. As a young teen Emmett got crazier and crazier and Carlisle got angrier and angrier. Emmett was caught with marijuana possession when he was in tenth grade, the same year I made Jessica Stanley my fuck buddy, and Carlisle had been so hostile about the drug thing that even I began to hate him for it. Not that I hadn't loathed him enough as it was. But the scene before me, as I sat in the back seat of Carlisle's Denali, was a complete mystery. Emmett was friendly enough. People always liked him for his optimism and his dimples, despite the fact that he was huge and could probably kill a man with his bare hands. But until very recently, this friendliness was never extended towards our dad. It made me feel lonely. _Bitter, party of one._

It _was_ raining, like I'd thought it would be, and luckily I'd fallen asleep in the car to avoid unnecessary discomfort. But Carlisle took the boat out barely even far enough into the black water, the coast still fully visible, before he turned off the engine and sat in the captain's chair.

"Edward, Emmett, sit down."

Normally I would have replied with a nice, "fuck no." But a coldness in his voice collapsed my knees out from under me in obedience.

"'Sup, Daddy-O?" Emmett sang, grinning.

"Just sit, Emmett." Plop.

Carlisle took in a single shaky breath as his eyes meandered over the coastline, his pupils very far away as if he was only with us in body.

"There's something you need to know," he breathed quietly. I almost couldn't hear him over the sloshing of the waves against the boat.

"What is it?" I blurted. He was making me anxious. It irritated me.

"It might be hard for you to understand, so I'm going to try and ease you into it," Carlisle answered, locking my gaze with his. I quickly went over my small list of possible things that required Carlisle to create such a diversion as a 'bonding day,' again realizing how ridiculous most of them were. _Homicide, drug scandal, prostitutes..._

"We're not children, Carlisle. I think we can handle it. What, did we lose the house? Did you get fired? What's going on?"

"Calm down, Edward. Nothing is happening like that. The house is paid off and my job in the hospital is pretty much a solid thing. None of this is about anything material." I laughed at him then.

"Everything that has to do with you is material, Carlisle." My voice was cold and unrelenting, and I saw my father cringe away from the intensity and hollowness of my tone. Funny how we were boating at Cape _Disappointment_. It was almost an omen.

"Ease up, Edward. Don't make this into a scene," Emmett chastised, his shoulders hunched over.

"Damn it, Emmett, grow a pair. Carlisle knows you hate him, too," I spat. I was sick of Emmett pretending to be Carlisle's best friend today. It was making me nauseous. Carlisle's face drained, turning into an even paler white than normal. His blue eyes were swimming with emotion. I almost felt guilt for it, but the only thought that came to my mind was the thickness of his study door.

"I know that I haven't been a perfect father to you boys. This fact has not escaped my attention. And honestly, I hate myself for it," Carlisle shouted in a voice that was stronger than his eyes were. "I know you hate me. I see it in your faces every time you look at me. I _know_. But I try. And I try fucking hard."

"Don't try to justify your shitty parenting skills with the fact that _you try_, Carlisle," I yelled, shooting out from my seat with my fists clenched. The wind was ripping through my hair, shooting cold rain into my face. Emmett tugged at the hem of my hoodie.

"Sit down, man. Cool it," he mumbled. I tore away from his grip.

"I don't understand what the deal is, Edward. I tried to take you guys out today because I have something really damned important to say. And this? This is what I get?" Carlisle's eyes swam with tears, and his lower lip was trembling. It only fueled my anger.

"Oh how _considerate_ of you, father," I snarled. "How _nice_ that you would think of your own fucking kids for two seconds rather than just yourself."

"I think about you, always," he whimpered. "I work so much so I can give you everything that you deserve. You have so much potential, and I want you to be able to take advantage of that."

"Bullshit," I spat, turning my face away from him. Emmett had decided to just keep his mouth shut.

"It's true, Edward. I love you. I love you so much, that you don't understand."

"Then why don't you ever tell me that? Why do you come home every night at hide in your fucking office? Huh? Why? Why don't you ever ask me to hang out with you and why don't you give me an internship at your office like you gave Em? Why don't you look at me like you look at Alice? Am I not fucking good enough?" Fucking traitor tears.

"Edward," Carlisle said softly, "I never knew that you feel that way."

"Well, I do. And now you know."

It was then that Carlisle looked up from the floor at me, his eyes suddenly hard and his jaw set in a hard line. He glanced at Emmett for a few silent moments, and then back at me, before opening his mouth to speak.

"I took you out today to tell you that I have stage three lyphoma. I'm going to die."

**

I had started a sort of routine the following Thursday night. I sat in the hallway after my father came home from work and listened to him in his study. I had already cut a hole in the door, so that was helpful, as juvenile and immature as it was. He made no sounds except for occasionally humming to himself or clearing his throat, and I wondered if he was afraid to cry. He had entered the house Wednesday evening after we found out and nearly sprinted to his bedroom, undoubtedly to whine to Esme, when I found the wood saw in the garage.

The office door. It was the thing that had separated my father from me for seventeen years that I could never have back. I couldn't blame the hospital, because it was admirable that Carlisle spent his life saving other people. Kind, even. But now, my anger was at a two-inch thick slab of wood, and I sobbed without restraint as I kicked and cut away at it until a gaping hole dominated its face. It laughed at me all the while, pushing me closer to insanity as I screamed and shaved away at it. If Carlisle heard, he never let on. His bedroom doors stayed safely shut, and I wanted to cut a fucking hole in those, too. Emmett had opened the car door before it was even at a complete stop as we'd pulled in and started off towards the woods behind our house. I was thankful that at least he wasn't there to witness my temper tantrum. I collapsed beside the mess I'd made, winding my fingers into my hair and letting out years and years of fucking pain and anxiety. It felt sickly relieving, like peeing after a ten-hour car trip. I'd been so saved up all these years, so reserved and fucking pissed off at my father. And my father was dying. I cried as I thought about him and his pale skin that I had inherited, remembering birthdays and other holidays that Carlisle had been a permanent fixture during. I remembered Career Day and how he'd been gone while the other boys laughed and me and Alice. But I also remembered when I cut my ankle open during my Little League baseball game when I was seven, and how Carlisle had bought me boxes and boxes of different band-aids so I could change them out as often as I wanted until I healed. I remembered the card he gave me on my seventeenth birthday, and how he hadn't even signed it or put it in an envelope. I remembered the six hundred-dollar bills that had been shoved haphazardly inside, and I remembered wanting to slap him. But then I remembered when my puppy died when I was ten and how Carlisle had let me cry on his shoulder for hours and hours.

Carlisle showed me love the only ways he knew how. He was naturally reserved, but I always expected more out of him. Was that wrong of me? Was I the one who was fucking messed up? This was somehow my fault. Carlisle had cancer because somebody was trying to teach me a lesson. Every door slam and "fuck you" repeated in my head just then, until a pair of pink ballet flats appeared in my line of sight.

Suddenly—and I wasn't sure how I managed to do it so quickly—I was on my feet, glaring at my sister's eyes that were identical to mine. I smacked my stupid fucking girl tears away with the back of my hand.

"What the fuck, Alice?" I screamed at her, slightly rattling the picture frames on the wall behind her head. She had known the whole fucking time. That realization hit on the grueling ride home from the cape. It explained her absence and her contrived and sudden 'illness' perfectly. It explained how she didn't bathe for two days and it explained the blank check and the fucking pizza. Alice's eyebrows screwed up in obviously feigned confusion. She knew exactly what I was talking about.

"What are you talking about, Edward?" she asked, setting her five million shopping bags down on the floor. "And what the hell did you do to Carlisle's door?" I ignored her, suddenly remembering what a psychopath I must have looked like next to the giant hole I'd made.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I pleaded, wincing at the whining tone of my voice. "Why didn't you tell _me_? You know I would tell you in a second. But you lied. You hid until my own _father_ had to tell me he's fucking quitting on us." I choked out a sob, pulling away when Alice reached out to touch me.

"Edward, I didn't know—'' she started. I cut her off.

"Oh, hell Alice. You didn't know? You didn't know? So is that why you hid in your little bedroom from me for three days?" I cried. "Because you didn't know? God, you're a stupid bitch." I knew the last statement was going to hurt her, and I hoped that it would. I knew how Alice worked. Her eyes widened substantially, her mouth opening to form a small "O." I kicked the wood saw angrily, embarrassed that she'd found me like that. I rarely cried, and when I did, I sure as hell didn't want my sister to know about it. I realized then that Esme hadn't been home for Carlisle to complain to as I'd thought, and I heard her shut herself into her bedroom quietly. I appreciated that she left me and Alice alone to work out this kind of shit.

"I know you're angry. I know you're mad at me. But this isn't my fault," Alice said softly, tears spilling from her eyes. "I was supposed to find out from Mom today just like you, but she accidentally told." She tried to touch me again.

"That's no excuse," I whispered, stepping away from her reaching hand. "Did you do this to me because I went through your things? Because I told Jasper you accidentally hooked up with Mike Newton that one time? Is it because of the pink icing thing when we were thirteen?" My fucking girl tears were flowing freely by now.

"Of course not!" she blubbered. "This has nothing to do with anything you've ever done to me, or vice versa. This was me trying to protect you." Her voice grew quiet then. "I know you're my brother and you try to watch out for me, but this time, I had to try." I laughed without humor.

"God forbid little Edward has to deal with something that fucking sucks. Not that everything else in my life doesn't suck, too."

"I'm so sorry. I thought you'd understand. I'm so sorry." She backed away, leaving all of her Port Angeles shit, and closed her door. I fell asleep in the mess I'd made, waking only after Emmett nudged me into awareness the next morning.

**

I sat night after night, listening to Carlisle's sighs and movements through the hole in the door. I listened to him file papers, I listened to him audibly doubt my strength to my own brother, and above all, I listened to him cry.


	6. Discovered

**BELLA POV**

I was a wallflower at Rose's house that evening. Edward kept shooting Alice pointed glances that made my stomach dip for reasons that I couldn't say, and Alice repeatedly ignored them. Emmett sat in a recliner and watched the Florida game on television, whooping and hollering every so often to remind us he was still alive. Alice sat on the couch, Rose on the floor in front of her, and braided her hair. She tugged on Rosalie's golden hair roughly; she seemed sort of angry. Edward remained standing, shuffling every so often and peeking his head around the corner to look at the clock on the kitchen stove. Jasper stayed in his room the entire time, which was sort of weird, but he seemed to be the kind of person who enjoyed solitude. I sort of curled up in a ball alone on the love seat, pretending to watch the game and using the clock on the TV to decide when the best time would be to dismiss myself without being rude. Charlie would come pick me up if need be. We kept up trite conversation about stupid things like the first two days of school and the awful weather, making it virtually impossible to find an opportunity for an, "oh, look at the time…"

Luckily, Edward was on the same brain wave.

"Alice, let's get Bella home. Esme said Carlisle is coming home early tonight."

Carlisle? Esme? What weird names. I wondered who they were. Maybe there were additional Cullen siblings? Alice, Edward, and Emmett all sounded pretty unconventional. It would be sort of expected for their brother and sister to have funny names, too.

"Seriously?" Emmett interjected. "Dad's coming home early?"

Dad? Edward called his father by his first name? That was kind of weird. Rude, almost. I sometimes called my dad by his, but only if I was trying to get his attention or if I was angry with him.

"Yeah, I guess so. Esme wanted to make some nice dinner for him or something. So I guess we should leave, it's getting late." Alice nodded quickly, Rose leaning her head back to look at her.

"Already?" Rose whined. "You guys just got here!" Emmett crossed the room and pecked her on the cheek.

"I'll come back tomorrow, if you'd like," he grinned. She swatted him away playfully with a smile. It looked out of place on her usually scowled face.

"Jasper!" she called, still laughing. "Alice is about to leave, aren't you going to ask her out before she goes?" Alice smacked her on the arm, looking frustrated. I don't know how she expected anything different—Rose seemed to be like that all the time. Jasper yelled back something indecipherable, that kind of sounded like, "fuck off, Rosalie," but I couldn't be sure. I felt a hand brush my shoulder.

Edward Cullen stood behind me, looking at me with his severe green eyes. It was unfair, really. People shouldn't be able to paralyze others just by looking at them. My breath caught in my throat. He pulled his hand away immediately.

"Ready?" he asked gruffly. I nodded and picked my school bag up off the floor. Alice was still shooting daggers at Rosalie, but this time, Emmett's tongue was attached to Rose's neck. I shifted uncomfortably.

The pavement leading from the front door to the driveway was uneven, and I had to catch myself from falling on the way to Edward's Volvo.

"Watch yourself," he cautioned, reaching out to steady me. I blushed scarlet, sweeping my disheveled hair off my forehead.

"The rain makes it slick, I guess," I offered lamely, smiling in spite of myself. Edward chuckled heartily. It was a nice sound.

"That's probably it," he snickered, unlocking the doors. As I reached to move the passenger seat forward so I could slide in the back, Edward interrupted me. "Why don't you sit up front?" he asked smoothly. "I'll have Alice ride home with Emmett."

"O-okay," I stuttered, pulling back and slipping into the front seat. Alice appeared on the threshold then, a confused look on her tiny face.

"Roll down your window," Edward ordered before leaning across me to yell out to Alice. "I'm taking Bella home since you wouldn't hurry your ass up. Now go flirt with Jasper for five minutes while I take her and I'll meet you at home." He smirked as Alice's face turned a dangerous shade of red, gliding out of the driveway effortlessly before she could even protest. My breathing was still hitched from his chest being inches from mine just minutes before.

He drove without speaking at first, winding fluently through the rainy streets of Forks with ease. He flipped on his iPod, scrolling through quickly before choosing a song I didn't recognize.

"So…" he said, leering a bit. "How do you like Forks so far?"

_Deep breaths, Bella. Take a deep breath, and just answer the question._

"I like it," I answered simply, thankfully not saying anything unnecessary about any form of animal dropping or my obsession with making paper snowflakes as a child.

"Well, that's good," he replied awkwardly, stopping abruptly at a red light. He looked towards me, and I had to make myself continue to stare out the windshield to avoid any hyperventilation. "Tell me what you like about it."

"My dad's great. Charlie, I mean. He's happy I came here, and I'm happy to make him happy." I laughed at my poor articulation.

"Yeah, Alice told me about your mom remarrying and stuff. That sucks."

"Not really. I mean, yeah, Phil's an asshole, but it's fine. She's happy." I hoped my use of an expletive wasn't awkward, and I hoped that he didn't notice my slight hesitation before saying it. It wasn't something that I often did. I bit my lip.

"You seem pretty cool about it," he remarked thoughtfully, stepping on the gas.

"I am," I agreed. "It's nice to have a change of scenery."

"Well fuck me!" Edward exclaimed suddenly, and I blushed. "I don't know where the hell I'm going. I didn't even bother to ask where you live." He slowed immediately, looking at me with flushed cheeks. I met his gaze. Big mistake.

"Uh, well, uh, I live, um, back there? I think? Sorry," I looked down to my lap, realizing that I hadn't even bothered to direct him whatsoever, and he obviously had other obligations. His fingers grazed the skin of my forearm, goosebumps forming where his skin touched.

"Hey, it's not a big deal," he soothed, making a U-turn. "I keep asking you questions, so technically, it's my fault."

"No, no. It's mine. Sorry. That was stupid." I swear, I was going to chew my lip all the way off by the end of the day. His eyebrows knit together.

"Bella, calm down. It's fine. You live off Maple, Alice said?" he asked, referring to the street that my cul-de-sac branched off of. I nodded. "We're only like, five minutes away. I don't mind." He smiled at me, exposing two rows of perfectly white teeth. I relaxed into the cool leather, smiling a bit.

"I guess you're right," I relented.

"I know I am," he grinned defiantly.

I saw Charlie's questioning eyes peek from between the blinds in the den when Edward pulled up to my house, and I tried to prepare an explanation for why Edward was dropping me off rather than Alice, like I'd told him.

"Listen," Edward said, interrupting my thought process, "I can give you rides to school if you need them." A grin stretched across my sallow cheeks. I probably looked a little too eager. "You know, until your truck gets fixed," he added.

My grin faded. Of course he was just offering out of courtesy. But he was just so _perfect_ looking, I couldn't resist, regardless of the fact that he may or may not have thought I was bizarre.

"Yeah. That would be nice, actually."

"Okay, then. I'll be here tomorrow morning at half-past seven," he said, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Maybe it was a subconscious gesture, but I noticed it as one of anxiousness, so I figured that I needed to let him get home.

"Thanks for the ride, Edward. I appreciate it," I said thankfully, grabbing my bag from the back. The v-neck of my blue t-shirt slid down slightly, and it didn't escape my attention that Edward sneaked a glance. Though I was flattered, I instinctively pulled back and covered my chest with my arms. _God, Bella, could you be any more awkward?_

"Don't mention it," he said with a wry smile, one eyebrow pulling up. I watched him pull out of my driveway and speed away.

"What was that all about?" Charlie asked immediately as I entered the door. He wiped the arm of his flannel button-up over his forehead.

"Alice rode home with her brother, so Edward drove me home," I explained, hanging my backpack up on its peg.

"Who's Edward?" he asked, a trace of irritation in his tone.

"Alice's brother," I answered, crossing my arms over my chest. The gesture reminded me of the discomfited situation outside with the v-neck of my t-shirt, and suddenly I was anxious to get upstairs and away from Charlie's little interrogation.

"There are holes in your story, Bella," he accused. "You just now said that Alice and her brother went home."

"Alice has _two_ brothers, Dad," I clarified, annoyed.

"Who is this Alice you keep flapping about?"

"Alice Cullen? I think her dad works at the hospital, so you might recognize that name."

"Oh, right. I know the Cullens, sort of. Good family," he huffed, clearing his throat. "But one of those boys was caught with drug paraphernalia a couple years back, I'm fairly sure, so I'll have to do a good background check on them before you're allowed out with them again." I rolled my eyes, inching slowly towards the staircase.

"Fine, Dad. But the Cullens are pretty decent. People make mistakes." I made a mental reminder to ask Edward if he was ever arrested.

"I guess so, just not the people that I let my daughter run around with."

"Right, Charlie."

This conversation was going nowhere, so I excused myself and retreated to my room for the rest of the night.

**ALICE POV**

Emmett had to give me a boost up to the passenger seat of the Jeep, cradling my right foot in his hands and lifting me effortlessly onto the raggedly upholstered seat. Rosalie snickered, and I shot her a venom-laced glance over my shoulder. I was irritated with her. I hadn't seen her for three weeks before Monday while she was in Mexico on vacation with Jasper and her mom and dad, and I'd missed hanging out with her the Monday before school due to my mental breakdown of sorts. And the first time that I saw my best friend after weeks of separation, she was pretzeled up with my brother, all cozy and shit. I had been livid. I still was. It bothered me that she hadn't even bothered to apologize. I'd just talk to Emmett about it on the way home.

He must have sensed my resentment, because he gave Rose the lightest and quickest of kisses before climbing up into the car, pulling out rapidly as I flipped her the bird.

"Jesus, Al," he chuckled. "Could you be any worse at disguising your distaste?"

"Yes," I shot back, "but you wouldn't like it much."

"Edward told me this would happen," he sighed. I tried not to be angry at the fact that Edward knew all along that Emmett was scamming on my best friend, but shoved it off after thinking about how the secret I'd kept from him was much, much bigger.

"Well then maybe you should have listened to him," I said tightly, fiddling with the radio.

"Relax, Al. It's not like I'm fucking her or anything," he shrugged, turning left right through a red light. A little Jetta honked loudly as I laughed dryly at his bluntness.

"It sure looked like it, Emmett," I replied. "You don't grope people like you grope Rose if you simply _care_ about them."

"I swear," he said, raising his right hand and glancing at me. "I swear on my hermit crab's grave." I snorted.

"Fine. But if I even hear one single suggestion that you could even possibly be fucking her, I'm cutting it off in your sleep." He didn't even laugh at my threat. Probably because below my joking attitude, he heard how serious I was.

We crawled along the three-mile length of driveway that leads to our house and I stared at the expanse of solid green forestry that stretched out on either side of the Jeep.

"Al?" Em asked suddenly in a small voice. It sounded even quieter under the roar of his engine and the splashing of water beneath his tires. I turned my torso to face him, pulling my knee in towards my chest.

"What?"

"Are you…are you okay?" I knew what he was talking about, but for some reason, I still asked.

"About what?"

"About Dad." His seriousness nearly shocked me.

"Yeah, Em. I'm fine," I lied.

"Good. You know I worry about you, Al." I wanted to throw my arms around him and bury my face in his shoulder, but that was sure to complicate his navigation.

"I know you do. And I'm just fine. Don't fret about it." I hope that I sounded confident in what I was saying, because I knew that I wasn't. Emmett nodded once.

"If you ever want to talk to someone about it, you can talk to me, you know. I might not be so good at it, but I'll try. I'm not so talented when it comes to fucking emotionalism." He laughed a little before straightening out his features in the same grim expression he'd worn before. Emmett was too good for that. He was sunny. He was happy. And it killed me a little to see him so torn up. Because beneath his concern for my well-being, I saw a shade of pain that I knew I couldn't help. I rubbed his shoulder as he forced his mouth back into a smile.

*

That night, as I sat in the claw foot bathtub of the bathroom Edward and I shared, my cell phone buzzed restlessly from the pocket of my jeans that were sprawled out messily on the floor. I reached to silence it, splashing suds and bathwater over the heated tiles, thus soaking my pants with excess water. I set it on the toilet seat beside me, relaxing the crook of my neck back onto the tub's edge and closing my eyes.

Not even two minutes later, it buzzed again, rattling on the porcelain of the toilet like an alarm clock. I scoffed in irritation, reaching to peek at the caller ID and wondering who wanted my attention so badly. It was probably Rose, begging for forgiveness. I smiled smugly.

_360-555-2947._

Hm.

I didn't recognize the number, and it obviously wasn't in my address book.

I set it back down on the lid, settling back into my relaxed pose, before it buzzed again. But this time, it buzzed only twice, an indication that it was a text message rather than an incoming call. Thoroughly fucking pissed off, I leaned up and flipped my phone open in annoyance.

_New TXT MSG from: 360-555-2947._

_Hey Alice, pick up, _it read.

And, just as I thought it would, the thing started buzzing again. The unfamiliar number flashed once again.

"Hello? Who is this?" I answered, my voice thick with exasperation.

"Alice. Hi. It's Jasper." Whoa. Curveball. My voice immediately smoothed.

"Jasper! Hey, what's up?" My chest was pounding with excitement. Why was Jasper Hale calling me? It struck me as odd that all of these years that I knew him simply as my best friend's brother, I never seemed to get a hold of his cell phone number. He hesitated for a moment before answering me.

"I was just calling to, um, ask you what's up this Friday." He paused. "I mean, like, are you free? To, you know, hang out?" I didn't hesitate, not even for a second.

"Of course I'm free. What did you have in mind?" The change in the sound of my voice from the beginning of the conversation to not even a minute later was considerable. I now sounded like an eight-year-old girl after too much caffeine.

"I dunno," he mumbled. "Maybe we can go to Port Angeles to see a movie or something. Since you didn't get to come last Monday and everything." I shuddered, remembering exactly what I _had_ been doing. I knew that Jasper knew what was going on, considering that he and my brothers were fairly close, but I didn't bother to mention it.

"Yeah, definitely," I squealed. "That sounds awesome." What would I wear? I could carry that Gucci bag Carlisle gave me. But did Jasper have an aversion to designer labels? Maybe I'd wear the cute destroyed jeans I'd bought with Esme the week prior. They were designer, yes, but at least they looked cheap. Plus, they made my butt look good. I was ahead of myself.

"Cool. Well I figured I'd go ahead and ask before anyone else could," Jasper laughed.

"What? Like who?"

"Like Mike fucking Newton, that's who." I remembered Edward mentioning that he'd accidentally spilled the beans to Jasper about my accidental drunken hookup with Mike last year during Edward's episode in the hallway, and I had to fight against the rage I felt for him in that moment. He was going to get a nice kick to the shin when I was done bathing. I decided to ignore Jasper's snide little comment.

I said goodbye to him, doing a weird, horizontal happy dance and splashing more water out on the floor.

**EDWARD POV**

"Could you move, Mallory?" I hissed, zipping my pants up and trying to push past the flaky blond who was still knelt before me on the floor. The athletic closet was small, not to mention dark, and I wanted to get the hell out of there.

"Seriously?" she asked, raising both eyebrows and wiping her mouth off with her flimsy little wrist.

"Yeah. Seriously." I knocked by her, unleashing some basketballs from the rack in the process and accidentally hitting her in the face with one. I knew I shouldn't have laughed, but I couldn't help it.

"Gosh, Edward. I should think that you'd be a little bit nicer to me after what I just did for you," she said abashedly, and I felt kind of bad for the basketball thing.

"Sorry, you're right. I just don't want to get caught, and it fucking smells in here."

Lauren Mallory, while she was a goddess with her tongue, was kind of a bitch and I didn't really like to spend much time with her as long as she was talking. The odd thing was that we didn't speak whatsoever outside of the gym closet everyday, and I kind of liked keeping it that way. She passed my time and kept my mind off things, so she was sort of worth it, at least a little bit.

I don't know why I kept doing the stupid asshole-ish shit that I'd just done with Mallory in the utility closet. It was rude, and so against everything that Esme had ever taught me about not objectifying women and all that other stuff. I was only a few days into the school year, and already, I was picking up right where I left off. As I stumbled out of the empty gym and to my Government class I was supposed to be in, a wave of disgust washed over me as I considered my life. What the fuck was I doing? Don't get me wrong—I enjoy a BJ just like any other guy would. And Lauren Mallory was decently attractive, not like I had to look at anything but the top of her head, but that's not what was getting to me. As I walked into the classroom and met the eyes of my sister and little, quirky, innocent Bella Swan, I felt alone and hollow, almost sick with shame. Carlisle had officially been diagnosed with cancer for almost two weeks now, and everyone in the family was stumbling to fill their appropriate shoes. I watched my brother and sister change swiftly, and while their personalities remained the same, they were growing up. They were maturing, and I wasn't. Emmett was a rock for my father, and Alice was a support for Esme, but I was still sneaking cigarettes alone in my room at midnight and ditching class to go into the gym with Mallory during fourth hour. It was monotonous, really. I felt stuck, like dried concrete was swallowing my ankles, and I knew I had to make a change. But I wasn't sure _how_.

Last night at my house had been hellish. Alice screamed and jumped around with Esme like a child after Jasper called and asked her out. She didn't even thank me, which, frankly, pissed me off a little. That was last time I played matchmaker for that ungrateful bitch. We never mentioned the wood saw thing again. Carlisle tried to ask me about it as calmly as possible, but I babyishly dodged the question and went back to avoiding him as usual. Luckily, he just removed the door altogether. He probably planned to replace it, but it was easier for me to creep on him without the door there at all. The doorframe still laughed at me a little, but it was bearable. Last night, I took my usual position against the wall before climbing the stairs to suck down a cigarette before bed. Everything was pretty much normal. Emmett was already in his bedroom, undoubtedly cooing to Rose over the phone, and Alice was still down the stairs squealing to Esme. This time, I tried to scoot over a little bit so I could slightly see into the room, since I couldn't really hear anything. It stressed me out. Carlisle's sighs and hums and movements usually let me know what kind of day he was having. He was generally lighthearted, and the past couple days I could tell by his heavy breathing that he was slightly stressed, but tonight I heard nothing. Inch by inch, I scooted closer towards the beam of light that shot out from the room, holding my breath.

And then, of course, the fucking floorboard squeaked beneath my right palm.

"You can come in, Edward. I know you're out there."

I froze at the sudden sound of Carlisle's voice. I was caught. My ears burned with chagrin as I hesitantly rose from my position on the floor.

"Just come in, son," he spoke again, his voice tolerant and slightly amused. I slowly entered the room, my eyes wide and my cheeks beat red. Carlisle sat silently in his big leather chair, staring at the blazing fire that swelled in the large stone fireplace. His eyes flickered to my face, a smile dancing on his lips. I didn't really know what to say. My father appeared to have known that I had been watching—or listening to him, rather—for the past week, and I'd been found out, red-handed. Fortunately, he spoke so I didn't have to.

"You thought you were being sneaky, didn't you? What have you been doing out there all this time?" He still appeared to be enjoying himself. It made me sort of angry. Before I could defend myself, he added, "And how do you get upstairs so fast? Somehow, you're gone by the time I'm finished in here."

"What do you do in here all the time?" I divulged in a slight case of word vomit. I briefly imagined Bella and her apparent lack of a brain filter, and nearly started laughing.

"Well, I do a lot of research and filing. Boring stuff. Things that I can't imagine you being interested in." His tone was flippant, and he lowered his eyes to a large book on his desktop. "So why do you watch me?" he asked after I failed to say anything. I considered getting up and running away, like a pussy, but I figured I'd tell him the truth, even though it scared the shit out of me.

"Because you stay in here all the time. And I feel like I'm sort of spending time with you if I just sit out there." The words sounded stupid as soon as they left my mouth, and I wished I could snatch them back. Carlisle's eyes looked sad then, deep creases forming in his forehead as he looked up towards me. I stood awkwardly, leaning towards the door, still tensed to run away if I needed to.

"You said on the boat last week that you hated my being in here all the time. That's how I knew to start listening for you." He knew me well, which surprised me, since he didn't appear to pay much attention to my existence.

"I know. I'm sorry. I'll stop," I whispered, defeated. My shoulders slumped over. What I was doing was honestly really weird, and I hoped it wouldn't drive my dad even farther away from me.

"I don't mind," he answered back softly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk. "But I _have _wanted to know what the hell happened to my door." I drew in a shaky breath, sitting down on the Persian carpet and gathering my legs beneath me.

"Honestly?" I asked, ripping my fingers through my untidy hair. "I hated that fucking door."

Carlisle was silently urging me to continue after I fell silent, and I laughed bitterly despite the sudden intensity of the moment. My head felt heavy, and I could tell from the surge of snot to my nose that I was going to start crying like a fucking girl again. Carlisle, kind, compassionate, Carlisle, was materialized right in front of me. He was there, in all of his blue-eyed glory, looking at me with a certain light in the brilliancy of his irises that I had longed to feel with everything I had for my entire life. He was looking at me with…interest. He was concerned. I was in his special room, the one he'd hidden from me for so long, and now he was _listening_ to me. Maybe he'd been looking at me that way all along, and I'd simply failed to notice. But now he was dying. His skin and his bones and his blonde hair and his gray sweater might not be there in the chair in three weeks. He had stage four lymphoma. I'd had no fucking clue what that was at the time, so naturally, I researched it on my computer. Basically, people that were sick with what Carlisle was sick with were encouraged not to start any long books. I'd been wasting a big piece of the end of Carlisle's days outside of that door, and now was my chance. A tear slipped over my bottom eyelid, dripping to the floor and creating a spot of darkness on the rug where it fell.

"I only wanted you to talk to me, Dad," I whimpered, his face hazy through my fucking girl eyes. "I wanted you to decide that this filing and research shit was less important to you than me. I wanted you to climb the stairs while I sat up there in my room alone and I wanted you to hang out with me. That's it. Nothing more."


	7. Red Vinyl Beanbags

**ALICE POV**

"You should come over tonight, Bella," I offered. It was Thursday after school, and I was feeling particularly bored. Plus, I was sort of jittery in anxiousness for my date with Jasper the next day, and Rose was irritating me, so I settled for Bella.

"Um, yeah. Okay," she stammered. Why was she so nervous all the time? Her movements were so jerky, and it seriously made me uncomfortable. "Let me just call my dad first."

Bella was a perfect diversion. Edward and I were pretty much over our tension, save the incident where he ditched me at Rose's to make me ride home with the brother I was principally at odds with. But, like Rose, he was irritating the hell out of me. Since he found out about…the thing…he'd been really distant and pensive. I tried to put it behind me and accept it, but my attempts were pretty much pathetic. I smiled for everyone and let Jasper walk me to class for the first couple of days, but Edward was really starting to worry me. Em was doing well, and I was proud of him. But the whole Rose thing was going to have to stop, and soon. Maybe I'd make Bella help me plot against them later.

My house was a terrible place to be. Carlisle tried to be home a lot more often, and I assumed it was because of Edward. He made appearances every night at family dinner since Edward's blow up. For once, I was unhappy that my room was next to Carlisle's office. I heard the entire thing. I was asleep, trying to make it to the next morning, when I heard Edward sobbing. Again. I tried to block it out. I normally would have been eager to eavesdrop, but this time, it was so personal to Edward and I couldn't bear to intrude. I heard a few muffled sobs—despite the fact that my fingertips were lodged in my ears—where Edward hollered about Carlisle's extended absence during our childhood and Carlisle poorly attempted to defend himself. It appeared to have worked, though, because for the past couple of days, Carlisle disappeared up the stairs to the third floor after dinner for an hour or so before returning back to the first floor to his own bedroom. The thought made me smile. Edward deserved that.

So I almost beamed like a fool when Bella climbed into the backseat of the Volvo. Maybe she'd make the house a little more bearable. Apparently, she and Edward had worked out some carpooling thing, so we were driving her to and from school until she worked out her car situation. Edward came home after dropping her off that day, complaining about how Bella had practically begged for rides to and from school, but his eyes shifted uneasily as if he were somewhat twisting the story.  
The tensions were relieving slightly at home now that Edward and Carlisle were making progress, but death still hung over us like an itch we couldn't scratch. Esme watched Carlisle carefully and Emmett censored his language around him. It was strange, and I knew Carlisle was uncomfortable that we were all trying to change to make him happy, but he never complained. He just smiled and commented on Esme's good cooking, once even taking my hand on the tabletop and giving it a reassuring squeeze. It made me want to cry.

"I made Swan sit in the back," I called to Edward as he approached my car door, thinking I'd pull it forward for him to climb behind me. _Damned two-door._ He frowned slightly before walking around the front of the car to let himself in.

"That was rude," he remarked as he slid into the front seat.

"What?" I asked, pulling out of the lot and wiggling my fingers at Jasper as we passed him.

"Bella could have sat up front, you know." He sounded almost angry. Weird.

"I don't mind," Bella piped up quickly, tensing up slightly and biting her lip. I glanced at her in the rear-view mirror with a cocked eyebrow before she settled down.

"From now on, Bella, whenever you ride home with us, you get the front seat. Got it?" Edward's voice was intense, and I couldn't understand why. He'd been acting like that towards her all day. All week, even. It was on the verge between antagonistic and protective, and I couldn't come up with any explanation. I could have sworn he almost hit Jessica Stanley in the face when she tried to sit next to him at lunch. Mike Newton threw a paper ball at the back of her head in chemistry and, in turn, Edward had knocked all of his shit to the floor. "Try it one more time, Newton," Edward had said menacingly. He hadn't had to finish his threat for Mike to know what he meant. But still, in the halls and on the quad, Edward laughed condescendingly at Bella's ineptness and even made a few rude comments about her at home, including the complaints about the carpool situation.

*

"Bella!" Emmett roared as our separate cars pulled into the garage almost simultaneously. "Welcome to El Casa de Cullen. Happy hour is from four to six!" I chuckled at his improper Spanish, stepping purposely on the back of his retreating sneaker and making him stumble on the gravel. He cheerfully flipped me the bird. Bella's eyes shifted in discomfort.

"Relax," I said, flicking her arm. "No one's gonna bite you." Edward laughed, jogging up to us after pulling his backpack from the trunk.

"I will!" he exclaimed, bending slightly to take a firm bite into Bella's upper arm. Her eyes widened, and Emmett howled.

"W-what was _that_?" Bella gasped, her nostrils flaring. Edward's teeth left a white little "O" shape on her pale flesh.

"I believe," Emmett choked between laughs, "that Edward just bit you." We all chuckled together, except Bella, of course, as she collected her bearings. I wouldn't be surprised if she never came back again. Sort of like my old boyfriend, Bryce. We Cullens were unquestionably _quite_ outlandish.

Esme was pleased to see a new face when Bella walked through the door, scooping her up into a friendly hug. Bella seemed uncomfortable with almost any type of physical or social interaction. I wondered briefly is she had some sort of condition. But she managed to pat Esme on the back politely, smiling as well as she could manage. I rescued her from a nervous breakdown and led her up to my room before Esme could try and make her carry on conversation.

"This is my room," I said, hanging my purse over the back of my desk chair.

"Wow," Bella breathed, her eyes skimming from the floor to the ceiling. "This is your _room_?"

"That's what I just said," I snickered, flopping backwards onto my bed. The duvet made a satisfactory _poof_ing sound as I landed. Bella blindly set her purse on my dresser, her eyes on the crystal chandelier hanging from the twelve-foot ceiling. Marginally missing the surface, her purse handle slipped from her grip, pulling her back into reality as her belongings scattered out on the floor.

"I'd help you clean all that up if I wasn't so tired," I sighed rudely, snapping open my phone as it buzzed softly in my hand. _Jasper_. I grinned impishly as I answered in the sexiest voice I could manage.

**BELLA POV**

He…he bit me. Who does that?

I was stumbling from the Volvo along the gravel path leading to the Cullens' front walk, and all Alice had said was some joke about how no one was going to bite me or something like that. And then Edward appeared out of nowhere, his perfect, white teeth making an unblemished ring of teeth marks on my upper arm. I'm still not sure if I'm fully recovered from that.

First of all, Edward's lips touched my skin. But the brief moment of excitement I felt was overshadowed by the sharpness and pain of Edward's canines. They all laughed like it was nothing as I stood there in a state of shock before Alice grabbed the crook of my arm, ushering me into the giant spread of a house that lay before us.

"So this is the Bella I've heard all about!" a woman that I assumed to be Mrs. Cullen exclaimed, wrapping me tightly in her arms and burying my face into her caramel-colored hair. My body tensed up infinitesimally, and I saw Edward wince from the corner of my eye.

"It's nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Cullen," I muttered politely, shoving my book sack against the wall next to Emmett's with my foot.

"Please, dear, call me Esme," she cooed, a giant, almost unnatural grin stretching from ear to ear.

"It keeps her feeling young," Emmett chuckled, leaning over me to peck his mother on the cheek. Alice—thank god for that woman—must have sensed my complete and utter distress, because she practically yanked me up the stairs and into her bedroom.

"This is my room," she chirped, throwing her large and expensive-looking purse over the back of a chair. My eyes fanned out over the expanse of the room. The entire first floor of the house I shared with Charlie could have fit inside, maybe even the second, too. My breath caught in my throat.

"Wow," I breathed. "_This_ is your _room_?" I slowly moved towards the east wall to set my things down, my eyes still glued on the stretch of the ceiling. Alice laughed with an edge of condescension in her chuckle.

"That's what I just said," she said slowly as if I was mentally slow. I tried to take it all in, my attention almost broken from the sound of Alice plopping down on her enormous bed. I unhooked my purse from my shoulder, reaching out to set it on the edge of the dresser I could see from my peripheral vision, before a great clatter tore my eyes from the crystal chandelier that hung from the center of her ceiling.

"Oof!" I exclaimed as the contents of my purse spilled out over the dark wood of Alice's floor. I knelt hastily to clean it up, afraid that my ordinary belongings would ruin the perfection of Alice's bedroom. Alice exhaled noisily, unmoving.

"I'd help you clean all that up if I wasn't so tired," she said thoughtfully, snapping her phone open with one finger. She smiled wickedly then at what she saw, and I had no doubt that it was Jasper calling. Unless Jessica Stanley was calling with some hot piece of gossip, but Alice seemed to like the girl just as much as I did.

I decided to excuse myself once Alice lowered her voice considerably to speak to Jasper. It seemed as if she didn't really want me in the room while she flirted with him unabashedly, and quite honestly, I felt uncomfortable being in there while she did so. I closed her door shut with a quiet _click, _looking down the never-ending hallway to decide what I was supposed to do. I felt lonely all of the sudden—I was in a house surrounded by people I didn't know well, most of whom made me petrified, and Alice seemed more irritated than normal with me today. I'd only known the Cullens for all of four days, and I still wasn't sure why I'd decided that it was a good idea to call Charlie and ask if I could spend the night.

*

"On a school night?" he'd asked, curiosity thick in his gruff voice.

"Yeah, Dad," I explained tolerably, my eyes darting to Alice's expectant face. "Alice says I can borrow some clothes from her and things like that in the morning. Charlie harrumphed reluctantly, pausing for a moment to deliberate.

"Well, alright," he conceded. "But stay away from those older Cullen boys. I did my research, and it _was _the older boy caught with them drugs." He mumbled something unintelligible that sounded like, "Damn kids wasting my time with those damn drugs." I had to stifle a laugh.

"Alright Dad, I appreciate your concern." Alice cocked an eyebrow at me then, and I decided that it was time to get off the phone. Maybe it was because of peer pressure, or maybe it was because of the intense curiosity that I felt about Edward Cullen, but for some reason, I decided to climb into the back of the silver Volvo.

*

"Get lost, Swan?"

A smooth, silky voice interrupted the silence of the hallway, startling me. I bit into my lip with surprise as I whirled around to meet an all-too familiar pair of emerald green eyes. He leaned against the doorway of a room down the hall, a smirk on his full lips.

"N-no," I stammered, unable to tear my eyes away from his. "Alice is on the phone with Jasper, so I-,"

"No need for an explanation," he said, raising his hands to stop me. "I understand fully if you don't want to be in there during her little secret phone sex fest." I heard Emmett guffaw from beyond the threshold that Edward was leaning against. I managed a smile. Edward scratched his neck with two long fingers.

"You can chill with us, Bell," Emmett's voice called. Edward's eyebrows pulled together slightly for the quickest moment before he straightened out his expression, but it didn't escape my notice. Did he even want me to join them?

"Do you want me?" I spat out, wincing at my lack of a brain filter. Edward seemed to twist my words with his disgusting boy mind, and he snorted with his eyebrows raised.

"Isn't that a little premature, Swan?" His tone was faintly mocking, but his arms were so beautiful in his tight, dark green t-shirt that I forgot how to be offended.

"Stop stuttering and get your ass in here, woman," Emmett hollered. "Prepare to get thoroughly bitch-slapped at Halo!" I wasn't sure how to play Halo, but for some reason, my legs shifted forward and my feet led me into Emmett's bedroom behind Edward.

It was just as large as Alice's, almost identical, but it still didn't stop my sudden intake of breath. Edward leered, throwing himself into a red vinyl beanbag chair and picking up a controller.

"Nice digs," I said quietly, Emmett grinning in response.

"This is what a _man's_ bedroom looks like, little Bell," he commented loudly, raising his hand to Edward for a high-five that wasn't returned.

"Shut up and play the fucking game," Edward mumbled as I sat awkwardly on a bench at the foot of Emmett's positively giant bed.

I sat there for what seemed to be a long time—closer to an hour or so. Emmett eventually passed out in his tacky vinyl beanbag, leaving Edward without a playing partner and the room eerie with silence. I counted to fifty before Edward finally turned to me, gathering his legs in his arms and resting his chin on his knees.

"Shit like this always happens to us," he said matter-of-factly, his eyebrows set in a hard line. His statement confused me.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, my intonation climbing a few octaves. I snapped my mouth shut with a violent blush. This was getting out of hand.

"You know what I mean. The awkward, '_so, nice weather, huh_?' kind of thing." He sounded as if he was joking, but for some reason his face looked almost troubled.

"I guess it's because you don't really know me very well at all." I was kind of proud of myself for being able to respond to him without stuttering or visibly drooling. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to prevent my voice from cracking.

"Why is that, I wonder?" he asked rhetorically, his eyes smoldering. I cleared my throat. My palms were sweating uncontrollably.

"Maybe because you just met me? Like, not even a week ago?" My sentences came out as questions. My throat felt like I'd swallowed a bag of cotton balls.

"Can I tell you something?" he asked. I nodded in fear of what my voice would sound like after he did that thing with his eyes. "You need to calm the fuck down."

I hadn't been expecting that.

"What are you talking about?" I demanded, my eyes widening. He smirked.

"You need to calm the fuck down," he repeated, scratching his neck with fingernails that looked bitten down. "You like, freak out. All the time. Every time you're around someone that you don't know, you tense up and start stuttering and you look like you're having a seizure." My chest tightened. I wanted to cry, or run away, or be anywhere else but in front of Edward. I was already self-conscious about my social skills even without his help. My entire life, I'd always been dreadfully awkward and stuttery in front of people I didn't know well, and the object of my childish affection had just called me out on it.

"Well I'm sorry that it bothers you so much," I mustered, attempting to compose myself and failing miserably to exude any sense of confidence. Edward didn't look remorseful, or at least remotely apologetic. He looked _amused_.

"Don't get all defensive, little Bella," he sang. I opened my mouth to protest before he help up a long pointer finger, retrieving a buzzing cell phone from his pocket. "It's Esme," he remarked, wiggling the thin device in the air. "She wants us to come down for dinner."

"What, does she just _text_ you to come down or something?" I snorted as Edward nudged Emmett awake.

"Yeah, actually," he replied with a grin. The Cullens were so…odd. Not that I wasn't.

We all marched down to dinner after Edward pounded continuously on Alice's door, yelling all sort of colorful expletives and exclamations until she finally emerged into the hallway. It smelled like Esme had made some sort of stir-fry, and my mouth began to water.

A tall, pale man was already sitting at the kitchen table with a wide smile on his face, sipping from a glass of water. I recognized him immediately as Carlisle, even though he had never been described to me before. Alice and Edward rarely spoke about him; I only knew his name from the remarks that they made to one another.

"Bella!" Esme acknowledged warmly as she placed a napkin on each plate. "This is my husband, Carlisle." She sat primly on the edge of an intricately carved wooden chair as we all took our seats.

"Very nice to meet you, Bella. I've heard a lot about you." Carlisle's smile grew wider, and a familiar blush crept onto my cheeks. He'd heard about me? It was probably because of Alice, but I sincerely hoped that maybe it was _Edward_ who had spoken of me. I almost smacked myself in the midst of my brainless gushiness. The frustration I'd felt with him in Emmett's bedroom was slipping away swiftly, and I tried to cling to it in order to keep my sanity.

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Cullen," I mumbled dutifully, shooting him a lopsided grin.

"Please, call me Carlisle," he insisted, and I remembered how his own children called him by his first name. I nodded as I took a sip of water.

Dinner was…interesting. Esme served everyone, darting in and out of her seat like a hummingbird. It was the epitome of a traditional family dinner—everyone laughed and passed each other various utensils and condiments and kept up decent conversation. Everyone but Edward. He slumped in his seat, shoveling food in his mouth without a word. Carlisle watched him attentively throughout the entire meal, and every so often, there was a definite pause in the conversation as everyone shot each other somewhat meaningful glances. I felt lost, like I'd started watching a movie halfway through. Of course I wasn't willing to intrude, but curiosity was getting to me. Alice held her glowing cell phone below the table, obviously refusing to end her conversation with Jasper completely, glancing up every now in then to insert opinions on certain subject matters and to shoot Emmett pointed glances.

The Cullens had a secret. I just wasn't sure what it was, and I knew that I wasn't my right to know. So I continued to shovel food into my mouth without a word.

I nearly followed Edward up the set of stairs that led to the third floor after dinner. Alice has skipped off into her room, the phone already to her ear, and Emmett was in his stupid red beanbag playing Halo again, so I was kind of a loaner. It surprised me when Edward turned to me cautiously, a look of concern on his face for reasons that were beyond me.

"I'm sorry to be rude or whatever, but you probably shouldn't come up here with me right now," he said, his voice terse.

Of course. Of course he didn't want me in his bedroom, he barely knew me. And he probably only hung out with me before because Emmett had fallen asleep, and he knew that it would have been impolite to leave so abruptly. He seemed to read my mind.

"Not that I have some sort of objection to hanging out with you, just Carlisle and I sort of have a thing where he comes up to hang out for a while after dinner, that's all." Maybe he was lying so I'd leave him alone, but something in his face tightened almost painfully. He looked like he had at the dinner table, and I couldn't understand why. Food poisoning? He was a complete enigma.

"Okay," I muttered, backing away from him. "Sorry."

"Look," he started, "don't fucking apologize. I'll come talk to you after if you want. This is just important…to Carlisle. I'll see you later."

I nodded, the little bit of hope within me blooming as I absorbed his half-empty promise.

He did come, eventually. Alice eventually hung up the telephone and passed out on her bed, so Edward and I sat down in the hallway outside Carlisle's study and talked until the early hours of the morning. We talked about shallow things, like our favorite colors and best vacations, but it still made me happy to watch him explain the exact color of his childhood puppy's fur and the exquisite beauty of his sadness when he explained how the dog died.

"If you could go anywhere, where would you go?" he'd asked, his voice lazy with exhaustion. It was late, or early, depending on how you looked at it, and we had school in the morning. But he continued to ask me questions, so I continued to answer them.

"The moon," I answered seriously as he began to laugh at me. "I'm serious! How cool would that be? I heard that you can still see the footprints that Neil Armstrong left in the late sixties." He rolled his eyes.

"Your goals are admirable, Bella," he snorted, rubbing his eyes sleepily. I knew that it was time to turn in, but I was afraid that in the morning, when we were wearing regular clothes and went back to playing our normal roles, the comfort that he seemed to feel in my presence would fade away. It hurt just thinking about it, and made it that much harder to watch his retreating back climb the stairs to his bedroom that I would maybe never see.

That night, I dreamt of Edward Cullen.

**APOV**

I had no fucking clue why I'd suggested the idea that Bella wear my clothes to school Friday morning. Bella was a tiny thing, but she at least had height on her side. I was tiny as well, but I was damn _short_ on top of it all. My jeans were above Bella's ankles, the borrowed jacket she wore drifting above her protruding hipbones. I struggled to avoid laughing at her, embarrassing her further.

"Alice," she whined, defeated, "this isn't going to work. I'll just have to wear the clothes I wore yesterday." I'd already made her try on at least twelve outfits in hope that something would work, her tired eyes growing more and more distant with every designer t-shirt that I threw at her. She looked as if she hadn't slept a wink. I wondered if I'd snored or something.

"There is absolutely no way that I'm letting you go to school two days in a row in the same, dirty outfit, Bella," I scoffed, shoving a discarded scarf into a drawer. My mind sifted over the alternatives as Bella twisted uncomfortably in the too-snug clothes.

An idea snuck into my head just then, and I shot out into the hallway and up the stairs without a word.

"Edward!" I hollered, pounding on his door. Bella could re-wear her jeans from yesterday, but my sweaters would be too small as well as Esme's. Emmett's clothes would swallow her whole, and I obviously would never ask Carlisle to lend the Weird Stranger Girl one of his cashmere pullovers. That left Edward.

"What do you want?" he hollered with a thick lacing of irritation. He cracked his door open slightly, peaking out one green eye that was identical to mine.

"Bella needs to borrow a shirt to wear," I answered, shrugging past him and into his bedroom without permission. _Payback's a bitch. _

He wiggled his eyebrows at me curiously as he followed me across his wooden floor to his dresser. I began clawing through them, trying to ignore the crumpled boxers and the poorly-hidden magazines that lined the bottom.

"Exactly what do you think you're doing?" he argued, nudging my hands away and slamming his drawer shut. "Why does Bella need one of my shirts? You seem to have plenty."

"Because I'm skinnier than her, moron. She can't squeeze into any of my shit." He frowned a bit as if my statement had made him unhappy. He turned back to the drawer, opening it with caution so I couldn't look at his sick little nudey mags and sliding out a plain, white v-neck t-shirt swiftly with his fingers.

"Here," he said grumpily, shoving the shirt into my arms. The corner of his mouth pulled up just the slightest bit in almost a sort of satisfied smile, before he furrowed his brow. "Just tell her not to get anything on it, or I'll be fucking pissed."

I laughed at him then, remembering how a majority of his under shirts had accidentally been dyed pink under the hand of Esme and her incapability of separating whites from colors.

"Whatever you say, Edward."

Bella had been way too happy to wear Edward's t-shirt, and as much as I tried to squeeze a confession that she liked him from her own lips, she just grinned and shook her head repeatedly. I knew she thought Edward was the best thing since sliced bread. Maybe that was saying too little—Bella thought that Edward was the best thing since limited edition Murakami Louis Vuitton platform stilettos. That was much more fitting. She'd gaped at him like a fool the first time she even saw him, and she watched him with admiration when he did stupid things like sneeze and chew and other weird shit like that.

I left it alone eventually, deciding to ask her again when she was upset or on her period or something that made her more vulnerable.

The drive to school was silent. Bella sat in the passenger seat and that seemed to satisfy Edward for some reason. He sat quietly behind us, reading the few chapters of _Paradise Lost_ that we'd been assigned in English as Bella fussed at her thick, knotted hair in the little mirror on the visor. I decided to split the silence by turning on the radio. It was some old jazz station, and "Fly Me To The Moon" by Frank Sinatra was about halfway through. I reached to change the station, before Edward reached over the center console to swat my hand away.

"Edward, what the fuck?" I asked, trying to shoot him an angry glare and keep my eyes on the road at the same time.

"Don't change it," he said. "Bella likes the moon." Bella snickered quietly, and I looked to her with question inked all over my face. Her cheeks were a flaming red, and she was smiling at Edward in the mirror that she had been fixing her hair in. They seemed to be enjoying a private joke, or having a silent conversation, and it was fucking obnoxious.

"What are you guys getting all smiley about?" I asked with an edge of frustration. I was seriously going to wreck if I kept looking between Bella's face beside me and Edward's in the rearview mirror. Bella still had that stupid smirk and that stupid blush and Edward just smiled lazily.

"Nothing!" they both exclaimed simultaneously, and then collapsed in another secret fit of laughter that almost drove me off the edge.

"Fuck you guys," I sneered, parking the car and slamming my door shut while the engine continued to run.

I eventually had to ignore the whole situation in the Volvo when Bella stumbled into first hour, realizing that I'd have no one to talk to other than Eric Yorkie if I didn't attempt to relieve the tension I'd created. I'd just wait and ask about it, sticking with the pre-menstrual plot I'd constructed earlier.

"Promise you're not mad?" Bella had asked as I smiled at her with feigned tolerance.

"I promise," I lied, in a rush to put the whole thing behind me so I could talk about myself. "Anyway, Jasper is picking me up tonight around six thirty…"

I gushed on and on for the entire period in hushed whispers while Ms. Goff lectured with the notion that anyone in the class was remotely paying attention. Sparing no detail, I launched into a description of what I imagined that Jasper had planned for us, how I thought his lips might feel if we made it to first base, what I'd wear. Bella nodded and smiled and responded to my generally rhetorical questions with enthusiasm despite the fact that they weren't meant to be answered. For example, when I asked Bella what man in their right mind could resist skin-tight leather while contemplating outfit choices, Bella answered, "well, I'm sure some don't…I mean, certainly there are some animal activists who are opposed to the wearing of animal skins…" blah blah fucking blah. But she was a person to talk to and she wasn't related to me, so I kept pestering her with my excited squeals and anxious chattiness.

Lunch was different today. Neither Edward nor Bella spoke, or even made a sound at all. It was odd. Generally, at least one of them would somewhat participate in the conversation, even if it was a smart-ass remark from Edward or a stuttered, bumbling comment from Bella. But today, nothing. Tyler Crawley had invited Lauren Mallory to sit with us, and between her expectant glances towards Edward, they seemed to be pretty into each other. As Rose and Emmett droned on about the sucky weather and Angela and Ben planned their trip to Olympia during the coming weekend, I tried desperately to ignore the electricity between Edward and Bella. It made absolutely no sense. But I'd read enough magazines and watched enough chick flicks to know that there was something going on with them. Jasper was rubbing the back of my neck like usual, slumping down in his chair and grinding a toothpick between his teeth. But my eyes were focused on my brother, who was staring carefully at Bella as she stared back. What. The. Hell.

"What are you doing with Bella, Edward?" I whispered as I yanked him by his sleeve from the lunchroom. I'd have to hurry the inquisition before Bella caught up with us. I wouldn't make her walk alone to class while I annoyed Edward, because I knew she didn't have any other friends and also because I knew Edward wouldn't want to be an active participant in my questioning. So I'd have to make it snappy, and he was taking too long to answer. I elbowed him forcefully, trying to force an answer out of him.

"Violence is not the answer, sweet Alice," he said, wagging a finger in my face. I sneered and continued to drag him along the breezeway, blinking through the rain that was blowing underneath the overhang. Tugging him into the short alley between the cafeteria and the gym, I placed my hand on my hips and waited for an answer. The multiple air conditioning units buzzed and sputtered dramatically beside us.

"Spill," I ordered, tapping my foot impatiently.

"Nothing is going on between Bella and I. Just…chill," he yelled, dragging a deep breath in through his clenched teeth. He rubbed his temples with his fingers, his eyes pinched shut.

"It doesn't seem like _nothing_. What, do you think I'm ignorant or something? I have eyes, and ears. So stop lying to me and tell me the truth."

"You never seem to enjoy telling _me_ the truth, so why should I?" he fired. He'd shot a nerve as I recalled his words that one night in the hallway. _Why didn't you tell me? _Edward had cried._ You know I would tell you in a second. But you lied. You hid until my own father had to tell me he's fucking quitting on us. _Blood stirred behind the skin of my face as I looked to my shiny gold flats in regret.

"I thought we got over that," I said softly.

"We did," he insisted. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up. But seriously, Alice, you need to leave me alone about the Bella thing. I probably shouldn't have stayed up all night talking to her, but I thought you were asleep. I won't do it anymore if it bothers you." My ears perked then, and I looked up from my shoes and into his eyes incredulously.

"You—you what?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"I said I'm sorry about hanging out with Bella last night. I didn't mean to steal your friend or whatever."

"I _heard_ that, Edward. But what I wasn't aware of is that you spent, quote, 'all night' talking to Bella. That doesn't fucking sound like_ nothing_." I narrowed my eyes as he shifted uncomfortably.

"Why are you getting mad all of the sudden? I thought that that was what you were bitching about," he said defensively, backing away from me slightly as I fumed.

"I was talking about the little exchange in the car this morning and the scene you two made at lunch today. I wasn't talking about any secret, midnight meetings that you allegedly held with her. I _was_ sleeping, Edward, and you just fucking ratted yourself out." His mouth dropped open with an audible _pop_. The bell rang then, and his eyes shifted from my face to the sidewalk and then back again.

"Alice, I…I can explain, um.." He trailed off, knowing that he was defeated.

"I don't care who you talk to, Edward. Just don't be sneaky about it." Edward gaped, still unsure of what to do with himself, as I turned on my heel and stormed away.

I spent the majority of the day ignoring Edward. Maybe I was being too meddling, or overprotective or whatever, but it was frustrating to see—or feel, rather—the static of the intensity between my brother and Bella while they lied about it and avoided my questions. Edward decided to drive home after school, dropping Bella off with a small grin and a wave of his hand before finding the winding gravel road that led to our house. He hadn't tried to create conversation, so I decided to just let it mull over. I wasn't going to apologize due to my immense sense of pride, and I wasn't expecting anything from him.

Jasper came to pick me up, finally. Esme had finished trying to straighten the back of my ridiculously short hair and I'd slipped into the destroyed jeans that looked like I found them on the side of the road but really paid three hundred dollars for. I figured he'd like them, and the way that his eyes raked down my legs when I skipped down the staircase led to me to believe that my assumption was accurate. Esme managed to restrain herself from shaking Jasper's hand and taking a Polaroid by shutting herself behind her bedroom doors, and for that, I was thankful. I felt a Bella moment coming on as I tripped after Jasper along the gravel, somehow making it to the front seat of his red Audi unscathed.

He didn't speak much as he drove, only looking at me with the occasional crooked smile and fidgeting often with the volume of the music that was nearly blowing out his speakers. I sat in comfortable silence, which was sort of a rarity for me, just listening to him sing the words to a song I didn't know as the wind ripped through my meticulously-styled hair from the open window. Despite the serious jitters I'd felt leading up to our date of sorts, he made me feel completely at ease. I realized as he raced down the dark, rain-sodden streets of Washington, the damp air stirring his honey blonde hair around his lightly tanned cheeks, that I had nothing to be nervous about. I'd known the kid for my entire life, almost. I _knew_ Jasper already. I'd had a crush on him for almost two years, even when he was dating that slut Jessica Stanley, but I tried to ignore that minor detail.

"So what made you decide that you wanted to take me out?" I blurted as he scrambled to turn the volume down in order to actually hear what I was saying.

"What?" he asked as the guitars and drumbeats faded into background noise. The atmosphere was different now, and I couldn't decide yet if it had been a good idea to interrupt to comfortable silence with chatter.

"I asked you why you decided to take me out," I repeated, my heart thumping unevenly as a result of my blatant question and his now undivided attention. His brow furrowed as he thought carefully.

"And I'm allowed to be completely honest?" he asked, a single pale eyebrow inching upward.

"That would be the best method," I laughed, kicking my feet up on the dashboard in feigned casualty.

"Well," he began, smiling his familiar crooked smile, "you've always been pretty damn hot, Cullen. Or beautiful, or whatever. Even when we were younger. I just never thought you were interested in the slightest." He flashed his white teeth as he pushed to needle on the speedometer to eighty.

"You mean it?" I squeaked, wrapping my arms around my shoulders. I wasn't keeping up the cool façade anymore, but I didn't care.

"Yeah, Al. I mean it," he laughed, his eyes flickering to mine and then away again. "Otherwise I would not be escorting your fine ass to Port Angeles on this fine Friday evening." I giggled at his forced formality.

"Where are we going, exactly?" I asked.

"Nope, sorry. Not telling." His lips wriggled against a stifled laugh. I folded my arms over my chest in stubbornness, soaking up the muted music and enough of Jasper Hale as I could for the remainder of the drive.


	8. Found Out

**EPOV**

My house had been so quiet that I could hear the tip of my cigarette burning as I took a drag from it. It tasted stale on my tongue, and I cursed myself again for forgetting to put the carton in the freezer after I'd made Em buy them for me about a month back. It was around this time that Esme generally started to make dinner, while all of us kids scrambled around getting washed up and ready to head downstairs. Family dinner had become a sudden tradition for us, what with Carlisle being terminally ill and all. I tried to avoid cringing at that thought whenever it popped into my head. But it was inevitable, and it was happening, so I needed to get used to it.

But Esme wasn't here tonight. She'd taken Carlisle out to celebrate their anniversary early. Their real anniversary was really around three weeks later, but Esme was paranoid and took no chances. It made my father sad, but I knew that he did as he was told because he wanted to be considerate of Esme and her weakness. He would start chemo soon, and I knew that she was uneasy about it.

My stomach growled angrily, reminding me again of the stillness that rested beneath my feet.

Emmett and Rosalie had disappeared after school. He muttered something about taking some day trip to Seattle, and had called an hour after he'd left to beg me to lie for him and tell Esme that he was spending the night with Jasper. I didn't know how that plan would work, considering that Carlisle and Esme now knew he and Rose were official, and it was sort of unethical for parents to allow their son to sleep over at the home of the object of his affections. Besides, he obviously was planning to just book some random hotel room for the night and to try and shag it up with Rose. Which was disgusting. But I'd agreed anyway, figuring that Esme would be too caught up in her own worries to pay attention to details.

Alice was euphoric, and thankfully, out of my hair while in that state of mind. Jasper had come over earlier to get her. I didn't dare come downstairs to see them off; it was still sort of awkward for me. The Hales and the Cullens, intermixing like the fucking Brady Bunch. That just left…well…me. I was sort of used to being alone, but I felt emptiness in my stomach knowing that Carlisle wouldn't be climbing the stairs to my room after dinner tonight. The black leather couch that he usually perched on would remain unoccupied, and I had to deal with that.

The hours rolled by cruelly, reminding me with each tick of the clock that I was completely alone on the first Friday night of my junior year while my family enjoyed themselves without me. The same thought kept creeping into my head, but I swatted it away angrily as I thought of things to occupy my mind with. I tried multiple activities, like chain smoking and Internet researching and I even went as far as making a batch of cookies.

By ten, I decided to try forcing myself into unconsciousness, even though I had already worked myself up with all the cookie baking and shit. I was becoming a little domestic Martha fucking Stewart, and I needed something else to do desperately. The same idea repeated in my head over and over, and I knew the only way to avoid it was through sleep. I turned out my desk lamp, slipping beneath my sheets in the stark blackness of the room, curling up in a ball against my mattress. I lay there for what seemed like hours, tossing and turning, but sleep never came over me. It was the worst feeling in the world, wanting to sleep but being unable to. I snatched the alarm from the nightstand, glaring at the taunting red numbers on its face with over exaggerated frustration. _12:34_, it read. _Twelve-fucking-thirty-four. _I had at least eight more hours before it was acceptable to be awake on a Saturday, and sleep was out of the fucking question. Because my mind was racing, and I couldn't turn it off for enough time to fucking fall asleep. I was going crazy. I was baking fucking cookies. I was thinking about Bella Swan.

I shot up from my bed.

**BPOV**

In that instant, I forgot entirely how to scream. I thought my vocal chord had run away from me altogether. My body shook violently as my eyes watched the dark figure at my window, unblinking. Even if I could scream, would Charlie be able to make it to my bedroom before the predator took me away? Before he grabbed me from my bed and made off with me through the window? Everything seemed to move very slowly. Maybe not slowly, necessarily, but rather my mind worked faster so I was able to absorb and think of many things at once.

I briefly thought of all the CSI marathons that Phil had always made Renee and I watch in Phoenix. So often, this was the case. A man would intrude in on an unsuspecting household, abducting the innocent teen girl without leaving a trace. They would find her wasted body weeks, even months later, abandoned and unclothed miles away from her home. I also noticed the enormous lump of fear that was formed in my throat, undeniably the cause of my whole screaming issue. I thought of all the different objects that I could use as weapons around my room, coming up dry with only a few exceptions. The desk light could suffice, maybe even the stapler if I could move fast enough. But chances weren't looking so good. And finally, I thought about the shadow in my window, struggling to remember everything about him in case I made it out alive, so I could describe him to the police. Well, my dad.

The killer had broad shoulders and matted hair, and his long fingers were grasped around my windowsill as he struggled to shift his body weight from the tree limb his feet rested on. The darkness swallowed his other dominant features, and I couldn't guess at his eye color or his height as my eyes raked over his shadow. My mouth was still open to make a scream that would never come out, and I snapped it closed in terror.

"Bella, damn it, could you at least give me a hand?" The voice of the killer was thick and raspy with strain, and my entire skeleton stiffened as he used my first name so casually. He knew me? He had obviously been stalking me. I needed to do something, but my body was frozen, my legs still tangled in my purple bed sheets.

"Bella," he grunted again, his left hand slipping from my window's edge. Maybe he would simply fall, and all I'd have to do was yell for Charlie and call the police. The phone was inches from where my fingers grasped my comforter, but I couldn't find the power to reach for it.

Suddenly, the intruder managed to pull his torso a majority of the way into my bedroom, rain pelting off his back and onto my rug. The shallow light of my lamp washed over his features, and my eyebrows screwed together in confusion.

The abductor was tall, around six feet and maybe even taller. He had dark hair that was sodden from the torrential downpour, and the most splendid pair of green eyes I'd ever seen. The predator, the serial murderist, was none other than Edward Cullen.

"EDWARD!" I screeched, anger mixing in with the adrenaline that was flowing fluidly through my veins. I jumped from the bed, my body tremulous with the fear that had so quickly turned to infuriation. "What the hell are you doing here?" He lifted his body fully through the window, collapsing on the ground and rising slowly with a slightly pained expression on his face. I forgot for a moment about my complete infatuation, my petrifying awkwardness, and above all, the fear that I usually felt in the presence of Edward. I also forgot that I was still wearing his t-shirt, embarrassingly enough. With this new surge of confidence and fury, I kicked him. Right in the shoulder, almost exactly where he'd bitten me a little over a day before.

"Ow!" he howled, gripping his shoulder in his hand as he crumpled next to the still-open window.

"Be quiet," I hissed, slamming the window closed. "You'll wake Charlie." He looked up at me with furrowed eyebrows, massaging his shoulder with his fingers.

"You didn't have to fucking kick me, Swan," he complained, raindrops falling from the tips of his hair down his pale cheeks. On any normal day, I would have apologized profusely, blushing an embarrassing scarlet and stammering out poorly articulated apologies. But tonight, I was livid, and scared, and I wanted to smack Edward Cullen across his beautiful face.

"Well you didn't have to fucking break into my house in the middle of the fucking night!" I hissed, failing to even characteristically stumble over my use of expletives. I sat on the edge of my bed, crossing my arms around my stomach tightly and clawing my fingernails into my sides. Edward was quiet for a few minutes, and I listened to my rapid breathing settle back into a normal pace.

"I'm sorry I scared you," he said, his eyes not leaving his dark tennis shoes. His shoulders were hunched pathetically, his clothes sopping wet and his teeth chattering a little. I rolled my eyes as I rose to grab my bath towel off of its hook before throwing it at him. He was too cute to shiver like that, home intruder or not.

"It might still be a little damp, I use it to dry my hair," I said, more softly now. He looked up at me as he stood, wiping his face and neck with the deep brown terrycloth.

"I really am sorry."

"I know," I sighed. "Why did you do it? I mean, why are you here?" The adrenaline was rubbing off, and the fear was slowly creeping back beneath the surface.

"Bored," he shrugged, laughing a bit. "Alice left with Jasper and Emmett snuck off somewhere. No doubt he's with Rosalie." He still looked cold as he stood there awkwardly against the wall. I tried not to think about how he'd chosen to come see _me_ while his siblings were out with their respective significant others as I padded over to my dresser to try and unearth some dry clothes for Edward to wear.

"So what you're trying to say is…that you got bored at one in the morning? So bored that you felt the need to drive here in the pouring rain and to scale the house to break into my window?" The blush was without restraint now as it warmed my cheeks. Edward let out a throaty laugh as he scratched the back of his head, nodding.

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess that's it." I fought to break away from his gaze, pawing through my middle drawer as I beamed stupidly.

"Here," I tried to say with indifference as I threw him the two squares of fabric, despite the party that was taking place in the pit of my stomach. "Charlie's old work shirt and a pair of sweat pants that don't fit him anymore." After a moment of thought, I tossed him a pair of tube socks as well. He smirked, raising one eyebrow.

"No offense, Bella, but you're dad's a bit shorter than I am."

"Beggars can't be choosers," I attempted to say coolly. But instead, it was a big, squeaky mess that skipped across several octaves. "Besides, you're the one who thought it to be a good idea to break-and-enter in a hurricane. Kind of ironic, intruding in on a police officer's residence."

He smiled wryly, saluting me with the roll of socks. He turned to the door, his hand grazing the doorknob, before I stopped him.

"Charlie will hear!" I exclaimed, reaching out a hand to stop him. I gripped his elbow, and he tensed noticeably. "Sorry," I said softly as I released him. We obviously weren't making any progress.

"It's okay, Swan. You just freaked me out a little." His eyes were soft and swimming, like billowing grass. "Where should I change?"

I reviewed different location in my bedroom ideal for changing, but I usually just took my clothes off without hesitation in the middle of the room. But that was when I was alone, and I never had to worry about anyone else seeing me. The closet would be too small—it still had some of my moving boxes in it and piles of discarded clothes I'd tried on for school with Edward in mind. The only logical place was in the little alcove by my door.

"You could go back there," I suggested, gesturing towards the dark little nook. "I won't look, I promise." Again with the squeaking.

"I trust you," he chuckled, disappearing into the shadows. I diverted my eyes away from him, intentionally looking at the opposite wall to give him full privacy. It would have made more sense to completely turn my body away, but I knew he'd laugh at me.

"Ouch, shit," he muttered. I heard something drop to the floor—probably a book; there was a bookshelf back there. My eyes darted towards him to find the source of the clamor, instantly widening when I saw the beauty that was Edward's naked torso in the dim light. "Sorry," he apologized lamely as he knelt to retrieve the fallen object. His eyes flickered with amusement as he observed my facial expression. I wasn't sure what it must have looked like, but I struggled to compose myself as he cleaned up the mess.

"I-it's okay," I stammered, sucking my bottom lip into my mouth. He emerged from the alcove, still without a shirt on, and smiled crookedly. My heart faltered before returning back to a steady pace.

"So, what shenanigans do you have to entertain me with?" he asked as he slipped his arms into the flannel button down. I laughed as he struggled with the buttons, because his frustrated face was so cute and also because the sleeves were about four inches too short. He smirked at me and rolled them up defiantly.

"There's nothing really to do here," I admitted, still giggling. "I'm still not sure why you'd pick to come here, of all places." My statement was true, but at the same time, I wanted him to tell me that he came to see me because maybe, just maybe, Edward actually _liked_ me. He scratched his hair, like he often did, shaking a bit of the wetness away from his like a dog.

"I don't know why I came," he said almost inaudibly. His voice sounded almost sad, and it wound my chest into a tight knot that made me cringe. For some reason, he looked completely and devastatingly vulnerable there in the gray sweat pants that were too short for him, and I said the first thing that slipped into my skull.

"I'm glad you did," I whispered, meeting the intensity of his eyes with a shiver. The corners of his slipped pulled up easily as he continued rolling his left sleeve.

"I am, too." My soul was suddenly humming with life as he looked at me with such…admiration. I didn't know why he gazed at me that way, but I never wanted him to stop. I almost had to pinch myself to come down from my high. It was irrational, and foolish, to be so absorbed by the boy that I barely knew. I hardly spoke to him unless I was around Alice, except for the conversation we'd had in Emmett's bedroom. It didn't make sense. But there he was, in all of his green-eyed glory, looking at _me_. Bella Swan. No one else.

"Your hair is a mess," I criticized in the attempt of breaking the intensity that had fallen over the room. Edward's eyes inspected the walls of my bedroom before settling back in on my face. I silently thanked Charlie for disposing of the My Little Pony coloring pages and Nsync posters that had littered my walls as bitter reminders of my childhood before I'd moved back in.

Edward hung my towel back on its hook before crossing the room to sit on my bed, a smirk still grazing his lips.

"Well then, fix it," he dared.

My eyes widened at his close proximity. But instead of being afraid of it, I _craved_ it. I didn't know whether it was left over adrenaline or just desire that fueled me, but I leaned up on my knees facing him and began softly brushing his damp, bronze locks with my fingers. He glanced up at me skeptically as I parted the shiny mess on the side, matting it tenderly with my palms.

"A side part, Swan?" he mocked. "And you're not even cowering in fear yet. I'm impressed." I smacked the side of his head gently before continuing my work.

"I'm trying to get over that," I sighed, shoving the little piece of hair that kept finding its way back into his eyes away with my thumb.

"What, your constant terror? This little bubble of insecurity that seems to follow you around at all times?" His sarcasm should have irritated me, but it didn't. Because he was right. I leaned back on my heels, inspecting the part of his hair thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I guess. I don't know why I'm petrified all the time." I grimaced when he messed up my meticulous hairstyling with his fingers. He scooted around me rebelliously and leaned against my pillows.

"I honestly don't, either. You seriously have absolutely no reason to feel the need to shit your pants whenever Rose is around." His eyes were serious now, and I leaned back on my palms so I wouldn't fall over.

"Try the fact that she's ridiculously beautiful? If you haven't noticed, I am pretty much the spokes model for the plain." My voice was pitchy again under the weight of my self-conscious confession.

"Well, a spokes model would probably have to be better-spoken than you, Bell," he chuckled. "But I can't understand why you freeze up all the time. You're gorgeous." He bit his lip, darting his eyes to his lap, as if he were embarrassed that he'd said something like that to me.

"You don't have to lie to make me feel better," I murmured. I felt the heaviness behind my eyeballs that always came when I was about to cry, and I beat them back bitterly. He brought his knees in towards his chest, meeting my eyes again.

"I'm not trying to placate you, Bella. I mean it." His tone was solid, unwavering.

"Then why did you hesitate when you told me?" I argued. Someone just needed to cut my tongue out so I couldn't talk anymore. Edward took a deep breath, seeming to fight with himself on whether or not what he wanted to say was acceptable.

"Because I'm walking on a very thin line, Bella. I can't decide whether it would be best to like you or hate you. It's very confusing to me." I recoiled in shock at his words. He looked extremely conflicted, the set of his jaw tight and unmoving.

"Edward, I—,"

"I don't know whether I should stay away from you or protect you," he interrupted, clutching a wad of hair in his grip. "I'm an asshole, Bella. I pretty much suck. You don't want to be friends with someone like me." He took in a shaky breath, pinching the cotton of Charlie's sweatpants between his fingers. "You don't fucking know what my life is like. You don't know all the things that I've done, you don't want to be around me."

"I do, though. I want to get to know you," I said firmly. He was speaking to me as if I were a child, and it irked me. "I don't need you to _protect_ me, Edward."

"I have to," he spat gruffly. "You're just so fucking delicate, Bella. You don't know how to speak up for yourself. You have a complete lack of proper fierceness. Think about it, if I never protected you, you would just be blood on the soles of Jessica Stanley's tennis shoes. Rose would have already wiped the floor with you."

"I don't need you, Edward Cullen," I promised, my chin quivering. I was furious, almost to the extent of shaking. I _knew_ that I was weak. I _knew_ that I would be just another head for Rosalie Hale to mount over her fireplace if it weren't for Edward. But his words stung me. They hurt like a sack of bricks. On top of my untainted fury, I felt unbearable chagrin, because it wasn't enough that I knew how much I needed him. But _he_ knew as well, and that was what broke me. And he had almost been vain about it, which made it even worse.

Edward glared at me angrily then, and I wondered what had happened to the pleasant conversation we'd been having just moments before.

"Should I leave?" he whispered after countless, painful beats of silence. I considered it, making him leave and never come back. I considered pushing him out of the window that he had crawled through just an hour earlier. I considered crying and screaming all the expletives that I'd ever heard, and I considered hiding from him in my room for the rest of my life because _Edward Cullen had found me out_. He knew me, almost freakishly well, and I should have been terrified of him. But I just shook my head.

"Don't go," I whispered. He hesitated, struggling to meet my eyes, before placing a warm hand lightly on my knee.

"I'm sorry I'm such a dick, Bella. You don't deserve any of that." I looked at him with courage, the brightness of his eyes not affecting my coherency for once in our very short relationship.

"I want you around, Edward." My tone was strong as I blinked back the tears that had formed without my permission. "You're an asshole, there's no doubt about it. But I don't care. I don't want you to stay away from me because you think I'm too good for you, because that is completely untrue." He began to protest, but I continued, knowing that if I let him speak I wouldn't have a second chance to. "And I don't want you to stay close just because you think that I need your help. I don't want you to treat me like you do, like you don't care. Because it fucking kills me, Edward. Because I know that you're perfect, and I can't take it when you act like you hate me."

Then he stared at me for a ridiculously long time, his eyes penetrating into mine like he was looking at my brain. I froze, taking in rough, scraping breaths through my teeth as he analyzed my eyelashes. The breathing stopped altogether as he leaned in slowly, his cool breath hitting my face sharply as he gripped my knee more firmly now.

"I don't hate you, Bella. I can't hate you, no matter how hard I try." And the he kissed me. I don't know why, or how, because I was so paralyzed with anxiousness and fear that the time it took him to finally reach my lips was sort of a blackout. But I internally patted myself on the back when his soft lips met mine and I failed to either collapse or stop breathing altogether.

He moved his lips slowly, parting them slightly as I breathed heavily against him. His right hand eventually drifted to my hip, but his other never left my knee. We sat there is stillness, breathing in each other. Every few moments he pulled back and just stared at me. It was the weirdest thing, but it was Edward, so I didn't care. He seemed to like what he saw in my eyes, because he always closed the space between our lips shortly afterwards.

"And you look good in my shirt," he smiled as he pulled away gently. I opened my mouth to explain why I still hadn't changed out of it, but his lips silenced mine once more.

For the first time since I'd met him that Monday morning, I _knew_ Edward.

I wanted the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach to disappear as Edward climb down from my window when the sun began peaking out from the earth, but I knew he'd have to go before Charlie was up.


	9. Proper Fierceness

**A/N: just to let you know, this is pretty much the exact same as chapter fourteen, but EPOV. so if that kind of thing irritates you, you can most likely just skip it and wait for sixteen. but it's nice to understand why edward's so weird and why bella thinks he hates her so much. enjoy, loves.**

**EPOV**

I wasn't sure what led me up the side of Bella's house and into her bedroom. I'm fairly sure that I sat in the warmth of my Volvo for ages, trying to decide whether or not it was a good idea to try and climb through her window. I generally liked to make lists, sort of like I had when I was trying to figure out what Carlisle needed to tell Em and I so badly, so I used the same method as the rain catapulted from the sky towards the roof of my car. I made a list of pros and cons, the 'con' list much, much more lengthy than the pros. If I scaled the side of Bella's house, I could die. I could slip on the wetness of the siding and fall to my death. The tree that stretched from the ground outside the window that I assumed to be hers—which would be my best method of reaching the second story—swayed wildly in the wind, further proving my point. Another thing was that her father could catch me. I eyed the purple curtains that framed the window I guessed belonged to Bella, considering if Chief Swan would ever have such feminine curtains. Still, he could hear me, and he could also arrest me on the spot with no questions asked. I thumped my head against my steering wheel. Why did I even come there? It was stupid, and thoughtless. Not to mention the unreasonable hour. But Bella seemed to be awake, as a thick beam of light reflected on the wet grass from her window.

In truth, I couldn't get her out of my head. It drove me crazy just thinking about it. Bella was fucking weird, and I knew that I shouldn't like her. I generally didn't go for girls like her, but I didn't really date enough to have a specific type. My 'type' was easy, quiet, and submissive, further proving the fact that I was an asshole. But it was strange. Today was technically Saturday, and I'd only known her since Monday. Not that knowing anyone for a short amount of time held me back from asking for someone's phone number, or, say, a sexual favor, but this was different. That first day in the courtyard, I had been utterly turned off by Bella Swan. She was spastic, and possibly crazy. She mumbled on and on about fucking Arizona and her damned chinchilla that I was determined that we'd never be friends. I wondered how Alice put up with her, and also considered how I could avoid her as long as she was friends with my sister. Alice seemed to like her pretty well, despite the fact that she was clumsy and slightly insane, and I couldn't understand why. But now…I was sitting outside of her fucking house, trying to figure out how to get into her bedroom. What had changed in me? It wasn't my father getting sick, because I'd already known about that before school even started. It wasn't as result of my attempts in growing the fuck up, I was fairly sure. But that night when Bella sat in Emmett's bedroom, blushing and blubbering in haste to defend herself, something kind of sparked in my chest.

Bella needed protecting. She was a mess all by herself, and she was able to recoup whenever I stood up for her. Bella was _decent_. She was fucking weird, but she was decent. Maybe it wasn't Bella that had the problem all along, even though she was sort of socially retarded. Maybe it was me. She had sat there, on the bench at the end of Emmett's bed, stuttering and blushing and trying to defend her personality against _me_. I was being a dick to her, and she couldn't even fucking properly stick up for herself. It made me feel filthy with guilt. Since that night that I sat with her in the hallway, her smile had infiltrated my brain. It felt weird that it had happened only twenty-four hours ago, but something inside of me had flipped completely. It felt sort of irrevocable.

Bella's smiling brown eyes led me up that slippery damn tree to her window. It took me a good ten minutes to get up it, after falling twice and scraping my palm. She had been furious, like nothing I'd ever seen from Alice or Rosalie, and for short minute I was legitimately afraid of her. All of her shyness had suddenly disappeared as I sat there, rain-soaked on her floor, and I _loved_ it. She practically vibrated with anger, her thick, dark hair wild against my white t-shirt. It made me kind of happy to see her still wearing it on her delicate frame, but it shouldn't have. Bella still knew me as Dickward, the guy who laughed at her expense and only stood up for her when she was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

I gazed at her as her bones ignited with unadulterated fury, and I decided something. Bella was amazing. She just was. I couldn't understand her, or even myself, and I liked how my sudden admiration and mild affection was unexplainable. Her chest heaved beneath the thin cotton of my v-neck, and her fists were clenched at her sides.

"Edward!" she'd exclaimed as loud as the night would allow her. "What the hell are you doing here?" Her face was beat red, but for once not with a blush. Her eyes were wide and dangerous. I almost opened my mouth to speak, probably to say something sarcastic to disguise my chagrin that I'd even tried to climb into her room in the middle of the night. But before I could move, Bella took a sharp kick to my shoulder, a jolt of pain shooting through my body on impact.

"Ow!" I squealed, clutching my shoulder in agony. She hushed me, slamming the window shut and hissing something about waking her father up. "You didn't have to fucking kick me, Swan," I spat as my shoulder throbbed beneath my fingers.

"Well you didn't have to fucking break into my house in the middle of the fucking night!" she shot back, my eyes widening. Her nervousness hadn't yet taken over her ferocity, and I wished that it would last for at least a little while. It was satisfying to me to see Bella hold her own. I liked protecting her, but it was refreshing to see her protect herself. Even if it was against me.

I apologized quickly, surprised when her face calmed down and she handed me a towel to dry my hair. I could still sense her anger, but she was trying to pull it together and be at least a bit courteous. I hadn't known that she'd react this way. I had knocked at her window to forewarn her of my entry, but perhaps she hadn't heard it over the storm. I attempted to explain that I had simply come because I was bored, gracefully omitting the junk about the cookies and trying to sleep and the fact that her fucking chocolate brown eyes stared at me in my mind relentlessly. She smiled, handing me some dry clothes to change into. She was so fucking _gracious_.

I gave her a salute with the dry socks she gave me, grabbing the doorknob to go find a hall bathroom to change in.

"Charlie will hear!" she yelped, grabbing my elbow and stopping me dead in my tracks. I tensed at her warm grip, stunned with her sudden exclamation. She pulled back immediately, probably thinking that I didn't want her to touch me, and pointed me towards a nook beside her closet that I could change in. As soon as she withdrew, I missed the warmth of her palm on my arm. It was borderline psycho, but her hand was so fucking soft and I was so fucking cold.

I smirked as she eyed the alcove I was to change in carefully. Did Bella want a chance to see me naked? All she had to do was ask. But she turned her little head, trying to give me some privacy. It was innocent, and it was stupid, but it was so damned _cute_.

I pulled on the too-short gray sweatpants she had given me, my elbow knocking into a narrow bookshelf that was tucked into the alcove, knocking a dilapidated copy of _Wuthering Heights_ to the floor with a clatter.

"Ouch, shit," I cursed, reaching down to retrieve it. Great. My shoulder was still pounding from Bella's kick, and now my funny bone was throbbing as well. Bella's eyes snapped to my face, biting her bottom lip, a flush of pink washing over her cheekbones. What was she nervous about now? Where had all of her sudden confidence gone?

"Sorry," I apologized lamely, shoving the book back onto the shelf. As I stepped into the light, I realized what she was blushing about. Little, innocent Bella's eyes were dragging over my torso, her lids drooping as she flicked her tongue over her lips. I leered at her, waiting for her to notice that I was finished changing and was simply standing there waiting for her to say something. She noticed that I was watching her now, and she stiffened.

"I-it's okay," she stammered, her voice edgy with panic. I had to smile.

She asked me again why I had come to her, and I felt stupid for not having an answer. I figured I'd relieve her tension by slipping on the flannel shirt she'd provided me with, and her shoulders relaxed as I struggled with the buttons.

"Your hair is a mess," she proclaimed as I examined the walls of her tiny bedroom. The walls were a soothing teal, with little paper doll chains strung from her ceiling.

"Well then fix it," I challenged with a mocking grin.

I wondered if she actually would. I was sort of testing her, trying to see if her intense glory from before when she'd kicked me was left over. I sat on the edge of her bed as her eyes widened. To my immense surprise, she rose up in front of me on her knees, raking her fingers through my dangled hair with care. Her boobs were at eye-level, and I struggled to keep my eyes away from them. No doubt she'd get all awkward again if she caught me staring at her tits. She smiled as she brushed my hair back, using her little pinky finger to part it on the side as her palm smoothed it into order. She smelled like strawberries mixed with the same laundry detergent that Esme used, undoubtedly because she was still wearing my shirt.

"A side part, Swan?" I asked. "You're taking away any of the small amount of manhood that I have. And you're not even cowering in fear yet. I'm impressed." She smacked my head lightly as she continued to smooth my hair. It felt fucking amazing.

"I'm trying to get over that," she sighed as she smoothed a stray hair away from my eyes. I laughed, feeling giddy with her proximity. It made me want to smack myself.

"What, your constant terror?" I challenged. "This little bubble of insecurity that seems to follow you around at all times?" She smirked at me, leaning back on her heels to inspect her work.

"Yeah, I guess. I don't know why I'm petrified all the time." She sounded so sad, and I wanted to apologize for even bringing it up.

"I honestly don't, either. You seriously have absolutely no reason to feel the need to shit your pants whenever Rose is around."

"Try the fact that she's ridiculously beautiful?" Bella said with an edge of bitterness. "If you haven't noticed, I am pretty much the spokesmodel for the plain."

"Well, a spokesmodel would probably have to be better-spoken than you, Bell," I chuckled. "But I can't understand why you freeze up all the time. I mean, you have nothing to worry about. You're gorgeous." I clamped my lips together, a wave of embarrassment washing over me. I wasn't sure if I'd crossed the line. Most girls liked to hear that boys thought they were pretty, but Bella wasn't like most girls.

"You don't have to lie to make me feel better," she muttered, her eyes turning glassy with tears. I wasn't sure why my compliment was stirring up such emotion.

"I'm not trying to placate you, Bella. I mean it." I promised.

"Then why did you hesitate when you told me?" she asked, meeting my eyes. I inhaled sharply, trying to decided whether or not I should answer honestly. In truth, my answer was a major discerning factor in any sort of future communication I wanted to have with Bella. I wanted to tell her how weird she was, and how confused I was, but I wondered if it would make her cry. There was too much crying in my life already as it was, so I couldn't handle Bella tearing up on me.

"Because I'm walking on a very thin line, Bella," I confessed. "I can't decide whether it would be best to like you or hate you. It's very confusing to me." My jaw locked as the truth slipped from my tongue. "I don't know whether I should stay away from you or protect you. I'm an asshole, Bella. I pretty much suck. You don't want to be friends with someone like me." Her face grew sad as I spat reality into her face, but I had to put it all out there. "You don't fucking know what my life is like. You don't know all the things that I've done, you don't want to be around me."

"I do, though. I want to get to know you," she said with sureness coating her voice. "I don't need you to _protect_ me, Edward."

She was wrong. She did need me. Tonight she had been confident, strong. I was amazed at the glory that almost exuded from her as the adrenaline almost visibly rushed through her veins. She was strong, and she was threatening. But how could I know if she'd be the same way on Monday in the cafeteria if Rose made her the target of her hazing? How could I be sure that she would stand up for herself?

"I have to," I spat gruffly. "You're just so fucking delicate, Bella. You don't know how to speak up for yourself. You have a complete lack of proper fierceness. Think about it, if I never protected you, you would just be blood on the soles of Jessica Stanley's tennis shoes. Rose would have already wiped the floor with you."

"I don't need you, Edward Cullen," she swore, her chin quivering. She was lying, and she knew it. She looked pitiful in the dim light of her lamp, and I wanted to hold her. But I couldn't. She didn't know me that way, and I was attacking her.

"Should I leave?" I asked her after she fell silent. She paused, her brow furrowing in thought. Bella's expression was one of shame, and I couldn't understand why. _I _was the one who had called her out on her insecurities; _I_ was the one who had accused her of being weak._ I_ was the douche bag, not her.

"Don't go," she whispered. My heart inflated with air, my chest tightening as I looked into the brown eyes that were etched into the cells of my brain. With hesitation, I placed a hand on her right knee. Her eyes stayed focused on mine, her breath even.

"I'm sorry I'm such a dick, Bella. You don't deserve any of that."

"I want you around, Edward," she promised, her voice strong. A tear snuck from beneath her eyelid and sprinted down her pale cheek. "You're an asshole, there's no doubt about it. But I don't care. I don't want you to stay away from me because you think I'm too good for you, because that is completely untrue. And I don't want you to stay close just because you think that I need your help. I don't want you to treat me like you do, like you don't care, like I'm a weight chained to your ankle. Because it fucking kills me, Edward. Because I know that you're perfect, and I can't take it when you act like you hate me."

She was wrong. I was horrible. I disrespected my dying father and let Lauren Mallory suck me off every day for two years and I was a terrible fucking person. But her jaw was set, and her eyes were so certain, and my weird fucking chinchilla rain stick Bella was so fucking _beautiful_ that I knew what I wanted to do next beyond a shadow of a doubt. I met her eyes, and something within them told me that what I wanted was okay. So very gently, and very slowly so she'd have time to protest if I'd read her eyes wrong, I pulled in close to her.

"I don't hate you, Bella," I whispered earnestly. "I can't hate you, no matter how hard I try." She licked her pink lips as her eyes fluttered closed. So I kissed her. I kissed her like I'd never kissed any girl before. I was careful and I was scared. I took her hip in my right hand, my left still clasped on her knee, and I thought about how if she was Jessica Stanley or some other slut, I'd be pulling her hair and biting her lips off. But she was Bella, and she was delicate. So I kissed her as gently as I knew how, her lips parting beneath mine. I pulled back slightly, meeting her gaze.

"And you look good in my shirt," I smirked, closing the space between us again before she could stammer out a very Bella-like excuse.

**A/N: yayyyy! and ps 'bella', i am definitely a girl. ha. so that makes referring to bella's chest as 'tits' a little awkward..but all for the sake of fanfic, right? i am as feminine as they come. i just cuss like a boy :)  
you guys fucking rock. i wish i could bake you all a pie.**


	10. A Classic Case of TMI

**A/N: short chapter. let me know what you think. i'm depressed after reading the latest WA chapter and knowing that this fanfic will and can never compare with that, but reviews make me feel better :)**

**BPOV**

"Bella, I'm coming over," Alice squealed into the phone. I rubbed my tired eyes, groaning a little as I read the ungodly hour on my alarm clock.

"Alice, it's 8:30 on a Saturday. Can't this wait?" I growled. It wasn't like me to be so rude, especially since I didn't know Alice especially well yet, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Oh, suck it up. I'm on my way," she chastised, hanging up abruptly. I was dumbfounded. Sleep was coming easily to me now that I was living in Forks, the rain making steady patterns on the roof that lulled me into steady, peaceful oblivion. But I had been shaken from my dreamless stupor when my phone began screaming at me, playing the embarrassing Journey song that Renee had insisted I buy to match hers.

_Alice_, the caller ID had read, and I assumed that it was an emergency. Oh, how I had been wrong. Jasper had taken Alice the night before to Port Angeles to watch a movie and get dinner, and Alice had taken every opportunity to text me at regular intervals, gushing about the color of his eyes and the tightness of his jeans. It made me uneasy—Alice always went into _way_ too much detail. But she probably felt the need to explain to me in person, and I resented her for that.

"Ugh!" I grunted, flopping back into my pillow. It was dark in my room still beneath the heavy covering of clouds, and it was just be too easy to close my eyes and forget all about Alice. Charlie was out fishing with his friend Harry, and I knew that if I weren't downstairs to let Alice in, I could be left alone for a few more hours of uninterrupted slumber.

But not even five minutes later, just as the edges of my thoughts became hazy with unconsciousness, a pounding rattled on the storm door down the stairs. My brain was heavy in my skull, pounding from lack of sleep and the impending doom that was Alice at my doorstep. I snapped my eyes open, tasting the annoyance on the back of my tongue. I was usually a calm being, fading into the background and rarely getting genuinely upset about things. But right now, I was, quite frankly, _pissed off_ at Alice Cullen.

"What is it, Alice?" I grouched as I yanked open the door. Alice skipped over the threshold with a tight little grin on her lips.

"God, Bella," she scoffed. " You look like hell." She gathered a lock of my dark brown hair between her fingers and inspected it, undoubtedly searching for split ends. I yanked away from her, padding drowsily into the kitchen.

"I wonder why?" I mumbled sarcastically, pulling open a cabinet to search for a coffee filter. Alice hummed thoughtfully as she folded herself into a wooden chair beside the small kitchen table.

"There are a lot of adjectives that I could use to describe you, Bella, but _cynical_ was never one of them before now." I eyed her incredulously as I poured the grounds into the filter.

"I was _asleep_, Alice. What do you expect? A nice song and dance?"

"How was I supposed to know? I left you plenty of text messages," she shrugged with a lack of sympathy. "But at least now I know never to mess with you before noon if I want to keep my head." I sat across from her as the coffee brewed, gathering my thick mess of hair at the nape of my neck and securing it with a grocery store produce bag twistie. She winced at my obvious fashion mistake.

"Sorry, I'm just tired," I said, clearing my throat as I peeled a banana. I wasn't going to tell her _why_, of course. I planned on keeping that secret.

"Why are you so sleepy? All that Chem homework dragging you down?" she asked, picking at a cuticle. Alice seemed to think that I was virtually incapable of having a social life, and I would just let her keep assuming such things.

"Yeah, Alice," I muttered scornfully. "I obviously have nothing better to do with my Friday nights than to just study." Her eyes met mine, and the greenness of her irises reminded me suddenly of Edward. Not like a little piece of my brain wasn't already thinking about him. And his perfect body. And the cute little way he'd lounged across my bed just hours earlier…

"You know I don't mean that," Alice said softly, breaking my thought process. She looked so troubled, so upset that she may have offended me that I had to hold back a laugh.

"I know, little Alice," I snickered in spite of myself, patting her hand. "I'm just crabby in the mornings, that's all." _Because your beautiful brother thought it would be a good idea to crawl through my window at one in the morning.. _I smiled hugely as I poured myself a cup of coffee.

"Okay, then." Alice looked at me as if I was crazy. "I'm going to ignore your little mood swing and get right down to it. Jasper Hale has the lips of a fucking god." The coffee pot nearly slipped from my grip as I turned to stare at her. Alice never ceased to shock me.

"He kissed you?" I blurted, jutting my chin out in surprise. She nodded excitedly as she bit her shiny bottom lip.

"Yes!" she exploded, jumping from her seat. "He did! I never though he would do something like that! With me, I mean. But he just leaned in and did it! And he didn't even try and push me away when I straddled him and—,"

"Please, Alice, spare me the details," I cautioned, lifting a hand. If I was uncomfortable even having Edward in the same room as I was, I certainly wasn't comfortable hearing all about Alice Cullen's sexcapades. She threw a balled up napkin at the back of my head, scowling.

"Oh, relax. We didn't do anything bad. Not really," she admitted impishly. My shoulders loosened and I tried my best to give her a believable smile. That's what the wanted, after all. My congratulations.

"Way to go," I offered, turning to the sink when the stretch of her smile faded.

"Could you be a little more enthusiastic, here? You're the only one I can tell about this kind of thing. What with Rose being Jasper's sister and all…" I knew she was right. I'd known Alice for all of a week, but she needed me to be a good girlfriend to her. I'd just have to suck it up and squeal and jump around with her until she got tired and decided to go home. Then it would all be over.

Alice gave me the play-by-play of her outing with Jasper, sparing no details, and I "oohed" and "aahed" and gasped and squealed at all of the right times. She looked satisfied when she finally climbed in the Volvo to go home, and I was pleased with myself that I didn't spill the beans about Edward's last night trek to the Swan household. I was legitimately happy for Alice, even though the whole descriptive thing was sort of weird for me. But she deserved Jasper, and Jasper deserved her. In the short amount of time that I'd known the two of them, they seemed well fit for one another. Jasper was terrifying, and Alice was sweet. Jasper was calm where Alice was crazy, and he was attentive where she was spacey. It was kind of like yin and yang or whatever.

But throughout the entire conversation, in the midst of Alice's thorough description of the movie and the flavor of the food and how Jasper's skin felt beneath her fingers, I wondered something. Why had Edward come to see me last night? At school, he was decently nice to me, but I always seemed to get under his skin. My existence sometimes seemed to burden him, like when he'd have to fight off Stanley and protect me from Rose. He seemed to be reluctant to go anywhere after school with everyone, and I asked myself if maybe it was because I would be there. Maybe he had some sort of aversion to me.

But none of this made sense as he lifted himself through my window, his rain-soaked hair leaving little puddles on my carpet. None of this made sense as he closed the small space between us, taking my bottom lip between his as his hand moved against my hip. I smiled wickedly to myself.


	11. Sucking It Up

**A/N: i have to skip around a little to show that time is passing after this chapter. i just gave you a play-by-play of edward and alice's life for two weeks, and the story is progressing swiftly. ps: do you think a 13-year-old could use the word 'palpable' properly? ha. read and review por favor.**

**APOV  
**

"Al," Rose said firmly, grasping my wrist with her fingernails. She was fully in my face, leaning across the table of the booth we were sitting in and nearly getting the tips of her insanely long curls in her salad dressing. "Grow the fuck up and talk to me about this." I had childishly turned my face away from her, my sloping nose pointed high in the air with stubbornness.

It was Saturday after I dropped by Bella's to brag about my date with Jasper, and for some reason, Esme had decided that it was her motherly duty to try and get Rose and I back together. She had led me to believe that I was meeting _her_ at the bistro rather than the nasty, blonde slut that was now sitting across from me, and I was irritated beyond measure when I met Rose's blue eyes instead of Esme's brown ones. But Rose seemed to understand that she was supposed to be having an intervention with me when her mouth ceased to drop in shock at the sight of me. She even forced a smile, gesturing me over to the table like she _wasn't_ screwing my brother.

But now, minutes later, she was glaring at me, and I could almost see smoke blowing from her nostrils. Her nails tightened on the inside of my arm. If Rosalie Hale knew how to get her way, it was through physical pain.

"Let go of my arm before I bleed on my sweater," I sneered, glancing at her rage-filled blue eyes for a nanosecond.

"Talk to me about this, and I'll let go."

"Fine!" I relented, tearing my arm away from her grip. "I'll talk. Just don't hurt me again." My tone skipped a few octaves, turning into a big whiny mess.

"Alright, then," she began, "let's talk about why you've been avoiding me for the past three weeks." She folded her arms across her chest, attracting the attention of all the males who weren't already gaping at her. I shoved an unladylike amount of salad into my mouth obstinately, still refusing to meet her glare unless absolutely necessary.

"Jesus, Rose!" I hissed when her nails found their way back into my wrist.

"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way," she said in a low, throaty voice. She cocked a thin, blonde eyebrow menacingly.

"Okay, _Rosie_, let's talk about how you're fucking my brother and failed to so much as tell me that you were even _interested_ in him. And let's also talk about how you're a hypocrite and basically forbid me from seeing _your_ brother when you're screwing _mine_." My face was undoubtedly bright red, my heart pounding in my chest from my little rant session. Rosalie's face appeared to have drained of all blood. Her lips mashed into an impossibly thin line. We sat there, simply staring at each other, saying nothing. The interested witnesses who seemed to have been listening to our less-than-quiet catfight eventually turned back to their own company.

"I wasn't aware that you were still upset about that, Alice," Rose muttered calmly, her eyes darting down to her salad plate. I wondered if my eyes were playing tricks on me when a tear dripped down her tanned cheek.

"Well, duh," I whispered, leaning my cheek to my fist. I didn't want Rose to cry, even though she was a fucking slut. She was still my best friend, I guess, and I hated to see her so suddenly upset. After a few moments, Rosalie finally spoke to me again.

"You know, I've never seen Jasper so happy," she smiled sadly, still failing to meet my eyes. "Usually he just comes home and sulks around and listens to this scary music shit. But now he comes home and like…talks to my mom. He never does stuff like that." She laughed with a little more enthusiasm, and it made me smile.

"I really like him, Rose," I admitted.

"I know you do. It's just weird, you know, because you and I are so close."

"You're telling me? Then what about Emmett?" All of the very small amount of progress we'd made diminished suddenly in the midst of Rose's hypocrisy.

"Honestly, Al, I never thought you'd even care." Another baseball-sized tear dripped down her face, and I guessed that she was probably wearing waterproof mascara.

"Seriously, Rosalie?" I asked incredulously. "You and Jasper aren't even vaguely close and you wonder why I'm angry that you didn't tell me about dating Emmett? You know how close we are."

"Well, it's been kind of obvious that we're together. I wasn't aware that you needed any help figuring it out." Her voice was injected with poison, more so than usual, and it made me cringe.

"But wouldn't you think that if it makes you uncomfortable for me to date _your_ brother it would piss me off that you're dating _mine_? It's like some weird, dysfunctional sitcom." The waiter approached our table, probably to refresh our still-full waters, but the death glare that Rose shot him made him stumble away nervously.

"Geeze, Al. What do you want me to say? I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm with Emmett and I didn't bother to formally ask for your permission." Her voice was clipped, and I could practically feel her anger rolling off of her in waves. "It's your fault that you were practically dead the entire week before school. It's not like Em and I have ever been together for very long. Try, like, three weeks. Barely."

"I know," I said rationally, taking a deep breath. "It just kind of freaks me out a little." Rosalie's face slowly settled back into her usual bored pout, and she patted the top of my hand.

"I guess it should. None of us, myself included, ever thought any woman in her right mind would settle for Emmett. But I _like_ him, Al. I really do. And we're not…like _that_…yet. You know what I'm saying." I lifted a palm to caution her. I _so_ did not want to know any details concerning the status of my brother's sex life. It was beyond disturbing. Rose giggled, taking a sip from her sweating water glass.

"Does the whole me and Jasper thing creep you out?" I asked earnestly. I was slowly—at a nearly glacial pace—getting used to the idea of my best friend being with my brother. But I decided it was the polite thing to do by asking her about my own relationship in return. Even if I didn't particularly care what her answer was, because I still was going to do what I wanted.

"Yeah," she laughed. "Hell yeah. But you're sucking it up about me, so I'll suck it up about you." She wiped her finger below her eye, searching for any smudged mascara. "But if I find any of his boxer shorts on your floor, I'll fucking kill you," she added. I chuckled as she swiped away the remainder of her tears, trying to ignore the fact that she was probably dead serious.

I was glad to have stuff worked out with Rosalie; things had been getting lonely at school even though I'd made a new friend in Bella. She'd hugged me before getting into her car, a genuine smile on her face. It was a rarity for her, and it made me happy to think that our truce seemed permanent. She was going to back off of my relationship with Jasper, and I was going to have to swallow back the enormous lump of ice in my throat that was she and Emmett. I waved back to her as I dropped down into the Volvo, smiling to myself that she had taken the red Audi I'd so shamelessly straddled Jasper inside of two nights before.

My mind flickered quickly to Bella—would she be sad now that things had mulled over between Rose and I? I couldn't really imagine how that would affect our friendship at all, but it was no secret that Bella thoroughly irritated Rosalie. Bella would probably stop coming to all of the get-togethers we had, and Edward would probably get pissy if he couldn't drive her home all the time anymore. Bella was seriously weird, but she never once interrupted my rants and raving to talk about herself and change the direction of the conversation like Rose so often did. Bella was legitimately sweet, and now that she was able to form coherent sentences in my presence without cowering in some sort of unjustified fear. The thing that struck me as odd was the fact that Edward still refused to admit that anything was going on between the two of them. It was beyond bizarre. He trash-talked her constantly and made snide comments about how unusual she was, but then he nearly bit my head off Monday morning when I'd asked to borrow the car to hang out with Jasper after school.

"_I need it,"_ he'd argued in a clipped tone.

"Why in the world would you, of all people, need the car this afternoon?" I shot back. It was a low blow—it was no secret that Edward had a fairly slow social life. But I didn't understand why he couldn't just ride home with Emmett.

"I just need the car, _Mommy_. Stop interrogating me." He twisted a handful of his bronze hair between his fingers in frustration.

"Just take my Mercedes, Alice," Esme had sighed in exasperation, throwing me her keys from across the kitchen. "And stop fighting with your sister all the time, Edward. You know that nobody that lives under this roof needs anything like that." Esme was always bringing shit like that up, and it made me angry to see how Edward's face crumpled.

"Ease up, Esme," I said sternly, pocketing her precious car keys. Edward shot me a thankful glance as he slung his school bag over his shoulder.

*

I'd wondered why I had the immense pleasure of driving my mother's new sports car the entire day, not bothering to ask Edward in fear of bringing up his cross mood that morning. I wasn't complaining or anything. The Mercedes was a huge upgrade from the Volvo, and I'd liked how Jasper's eyes lit up slightly when he eyed the sleek, black paint job in the parking lot when I'd pulled in that morning.

My jaw fell to the rain-slicked asphalt when I had discovered the source of Edward's dire need to take the car for the afternoon. Jasper was walking me down the steps to the parking lot when I saw a flash of the Volvo in my peripheral vision. Edward was sliding out of his parking space hastily, the engine roaring, when I caught a glimpse of some very familiar chocolate brown curls in the passenger seat beside him. He looked nervous, probably afraid that he would see me glaring at him angrily. But deep down, beneath the slight irritation that I felt for his evasiveness rather than just coming out with the truth, I was _elated_.

Edward and Bella. Bella and Edward. The thought made me squeal with joy as Jasper eyed me like I was crazy.

"What are you all excited about, lady?" he asked, taking my hand. Ever since our date of Friday and the very satisfactory make out session that had followed, Jasper was very touchy-feely towards me. I liked it.

"Did you not just see that?" I asked, pointing to the retreating silver car. He shook his head as we steered towards Esme's Mercedes.

"I think Edward is taking Bella out," I whispered as we passed Rose and Emmett leaning against the Audi she and Jasper shared. I was going to try and keep Bella and my brother's secret little get-together under wraps, at least for now. The only word I could think of to describe the feeling of my insides was _jubilation_. Edward and Bella in that car together confirmed the suspicions I had that had balanced for so long on a leveled seesaw, the truth sitting like a fat kid on one end and finally proving me right.

"Seriously? I thought she was kind of weird."

"She is," I giggled. "But I guess he finds it endearing." Jasper chuckled as he slid into the passenger seat.

"Edward deserves it," he remarked as I shoved the keys into the ignition. "Everyone's kind of paired off and it would suck if he had to tough the whole thing with your dad out alone." My heart sank a little.

"You're right," I sat softly. "I wish I was there for him more than I am." Jasper took my hand again between us, and kissed my knuckles softly.

"Don't worry, Al. He's stronger than all of us."

Jasper was the only person, other than myself, who seemed to have faith in my brother. It gave me hope.


	12. Big, White House

**EPOV**

"Edward and Bella, sittin' in a tree," Alice sang, swinging her legs back and forth as she slouched on the bar stool.

"Grow the fuck up, Alice," I spat, stirring my Easy Mac and popping it back in the microwave. Carlisle was at the doctor's office with Esme, and Alice and I were alone in the house while Emmett went on a play date with Rose. The week had literally crawled by, speeding up only during the good parts. The good parts were the only moments I wanted to go slower, but naturally they zipped by until another monotonous and glacial night came upon me. The moments were the ones spent with Bella.

It was completely unexplainable. But now I felt a connection to her, like a steel chord, and the thought of leaving her alone and going back to ignoring her like I used to made a sharp pain shoot through my spine. It was Saturday now, but I could still see Alice's face as I ducked out of the parking lot Monday afternoon, cringing and holding my breath as my fingers grasped my clutch like it was a live grenade. Bella tried to bow her head down a bit—we both knew how melodramatic our little hangout could be made as far as Alice was concerned. But she saw, and I almost pissed myself. I waited for the glare, the look of utter confusion and betrayal as she realized that I'd lied to her. There _was_ something going on between Bella and I, and I had sworn that there was absolutely nothing there, not even friendship. But I could practically hear Alice adding it all up in her head as she stared, holding onto Jasper's hand tightly.

Several emotions flashed across her features in that moment. Shock. Confusion. Frustration. And then, right when I expected her brow to furrow and her eyes to ignite with the fury at my evasion of the truth, a look of utter and complete _joy_ took over her face. Alice was _elated_. As the Volvo turned onto the main road from the parking lot, the last thing I saw was Alice squeal with happiness, clapping her hands together like a child. I smirked as Bella looked to me for my reaction. Happiness was somewhat better than rage in this case, and I supposed that it was better to have my sister pester me with curious interrogations rather than put super glue on the toilet seat.

"Do you think she'll keep her mouth shut?" Bella's first words since she'd sunk into the passenger seat of my car were worried, and it made me laugh.

"Probably not," I smiled, her fingers hesitating slightly before intertwining with mine on the center console. "But I don't really care." She bit her lip thoughtfully as she stared out the windshield, grinning slightly when I ran my thumb over her knuckles.

"It's raining again," she murmured. I rolled my eyes. Fucking duh, it was raining. It had been for three weeks now, only ceasing for about an hour the week before only to pick right back up again. I wondered where it all came from.

"I thought we talked about the whole thing about no conversation concerning the state of the weather," I commented pointedly, raising an eyebrow at her.

"You're right. Sorry." She sighed, burying her chin and neck in her absolutely _huge_ tan coat.

"And no apologizing either. That was Old Bella. I'm determined to make you into New Bella," I promised, switching up my turn signal as I steered into the drive that led to my house.

"What, do you not like me how I am?" Her voice trembled as she squealed out her words, a terrible blush spreading over her cheeks and to the tips of her ears. It was adorable. _God, Cullen, could you be any more of a queer?_

"On the contrary, I'm beginning to quite love the way you are. I'm just going to help you stop being so damned freaked all the time. It's like a sort of new-and-improved version of you." Her lips twitched, and I figured that her feelings weren't too terribly hurt after all. "But please," I added, "never stop fucking blushing. I can't even see straight when you do that shit."

And, like I hoped she would, she blushed after I spoke.

*

Alice giggled again, breaking me from my recollection of Bella and her perfect fucking cheekbones. I sneered at her, extracting the cheap and stale-tasting noodles from the microwave and stirring it around with a plastic spoon.

"You _love_ her, Edward. I know it." Her grin was so irritating that I wanted to smack her. But she was a girl, as well as my sister, and I had to fight it.

"I don't love her, Alice. I'm just…getting to know her." My voice was thick with obvious irritation, and Alice continued to drive me deeper and deeper into a rage-induced blow up.

"You just wait. I guarantee you, you guys will, like, fall in love and get married or something. I can see it now! You'll realize, five years from now that I am a complete psychic. You'll thank me and apologize for never believing in me and shower me with expensive gifts."

"I doubt that," I spat, tossing a spoonful of boiling hot macaroni into my mouth.

"Never say never," she taunted as she danced out of the kitchen. I rolled my eyes, leaning against the counter to enjoy my microwavable delicacy.

"By the way, Edward, I wear a size 24 in Seven jeans!" Alice's voice bounced off the walls as she ascended the stairs, the pride and sureness in her tone nearly sending me off the edge.

Goddamn, she was annoying.

That Monday, Bella had frowned when I slid the straps of her backpack from her shoulders as she headed towards my front door, tossing it under the shelter of the front porch and leading her around the back of the house towards the trees that stood guard behind it.

"Where are you taking me, mountain trekking?" She sounded slightly whiny, but strangely, it didn't annoy me. "You know I can't even walk across a leveled surface without putting both myself and others in harm's way."

"Oh, relax, Swan. I'm not asking you to jump off a cliff or anything." She snapped her jaw shut, linking my pinky as we started through the trees.

The air was heavy with humidity, the canopy of leaves dropping a nice sprinkling of cool rain down the back of my neck. The earth had a heavy scent, the forest floor alive with dark soil and roots that sprawled sharply like spider's legs. Bella kept silent, moving her lips slightly as if she were singing something in her head. I asked her what song was playing, and she shook her head with embarrassment.

I liked _this_ Bella. Away from Rose and Alice, away from Jessica, away from Forks High School. I wanted to know her so badly, to crawl inside of her brain and to memorize every cell and notion and idea because she was so fucking reserved. As she shook her head, embarrassed to even tell me what song she had stuck in her head, a yearning pulled in the pit of my stomach. It made me anxious, and I wasn't sure whether I liked it or not. I wanted to ask her every question I could think of, and I mentally cursed myself for not taking advantage of that Thursday night in the hallway like I should have. I had asked her shallow questions, lacking any general depth, because that was before my chest had started to ache whenever she was away. For four days now, her eyes stared hollowly at me in the back of my head, lacking the intensity and familiarity that I wanted. I stared at her as we padded through the forest, trying to memorize that exact way that her pupils merged into her irises, the exact color of the ring of startling hazel that outlined them before fading into a stark and devastating white. But when I closed my eyes, they were still those same hollow, emotionless caverns, and I hated it. I was going fucking crazy. I was so glad that no one could hear what I was thinking, but Bella Swan was so fucking unpredictable that it wouldn't surprise me if she'd drilled a fucking hole in the side of my skull so she could take a peek for herself. I ran my fingers through my hair nervously, searching for her little peeping hole.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked suddenly, licking her lips, her eyes still settled on the packed mud beneath the soles of her worn sneakers.

"Deep within the woods, my beauty, to steal all of your virtue." I shot her a fiendish smirk, and she jabbed my thigh with the pinky that was still locked with mine.

"Be serious, Edward," she chastised, an amused look lighting up her face.

"You'll have to wait and see. It's honestly not a big deal, I guess, but it's kind of…um, I guess it's important to me? Or whatever? Yeah.." I was embarrassed, in all honesty. Only three people that I knew of had ever been to this place, and I hadn't been there for a while. I just thought of it as Bella sat beside me at lunch today, and I knew that she would love for me to take her there. It was kind of stupid, and I wasn't positive that _she _wouldn't think it was stupid, because I still didn't really know her well.

The trees broke after a few miles of twigs cracking beneath our feet, and I held my breath as Bella entered the clearing and peered up at the structure that stood in front of us.

"What…what _is_ this?" she asked quietly, her eyes gaping.

It was a house. Found accidentally, when I was younger. I had been eight when Em and I decided to run away after Esme had demanded that we do our homework and we continually refused. She'd tried to punish us then, and we did what any mature, respectable human being would do. We packed a suitcase with He-Man action figures and a box of markers, and ran away.

We wandered for miles through the brightness of the woods, the trees rattling with life as animals crawled along their trunks and sunlight filtered in through the skeletons of the leaves. Forks had been much sunnier that year, and I had no idea when it had all gone downhill into such a stormy wasteland. I had gotten so scared, not knowing where I was, but Emmett just sucker-punched me and assured me that he knew _exactly_ where we were going because _he_ was a boy scout. The suitcase was getting heavy, and since I was the youngest, it was my job to carry it. My little eight-year-old arm was stiff and sore by the time we found it.

"Holy shit," Emmett had muttered as he gaped at the three-story structure, inching closer and closer to it.

"Emmett, I'm telling Mom that you cursed," I sang, dropping the suitcase to the long, unkempt grass with a _thud_.

"Do it and see what happens," he threatened, not taking his wide brown eyes from the dilapidated shingles that leaned against the roof of the weathered, white house. I wasn't sure who lived in it, or if anyone lived in it at all. From the look of the peeling white paint and the missing wooden planks from the sweeping wrap-around porch, it was abandoned. A home sat in the middle of a forest, sitting alone in the center of a positively huge, round meadow, and we had never known about it. Apparently, neither did anyone else.

"I dare you to go inside," Emmett said excitedly, finally turning to me with an expectant grin.

"No, Emmett," I whined. "Mom will be mad if I go."

"Aw, don't be a pussy," he laughed, skipping towards the porch of the house.

"Emmett!" I called. "What if someone lives here?" He laughed at me, trudging his way through the waist-high ferns the spread across the lawn, growing against the weathered foundation of the giant white creature.

"Then we can make friends with him. We are homeless, after all."

I eventually gave up on my fears, deciding that Emmett was big enough to fight off any ghosts or animals or strangers that hid within the walls of the house, and entered the towering white door. The stained glass on its face was punched out, the molding around it pealed from the wall and leaving exposed, rotting wood.

I gasped as I looked around me. The home, absolutely disgusting on the outside, was almost perfectly preserved within. An austere, spiraling staircase rose from the slightly stained white carpet, stretching to a second floor. A few steps were missing, but the chandeliers hung perfectly from the ceiling, good as new with the exception of a few cobwebs.

"Ew," Emmett snarled from another room. As I searched for him, my eyes darting nervously in search of another life form, a stench so putrid that it made my eyes tear wafted relentlessly up my nostrils. Long, white couches sat heavily across the pale floors, a sleek, white grand piano sitting beautifully on a low platform by the staircase. Finally I found him in the large kitchen that stretched off of the den, holding his nose and peering into a darkened refrigerator. "There's still food in here," he grimaced, closing the door with a smack and tearing out of the room. Food? If there was food in the refrigerator, the former owner obviously hadn't just abandoned the home. I tried not to let my mind wander too far in the fear that I would scare myself with the possibilities of what happened to whoever had lived there. The power was out completely, the clocks on the out-of-date stove and microwave blackened. Expensive-looking furniture still stood with tragic loneliness around the house, and although Emmett wanted more than anything to search the top floors for something to indicate who had lived here, the broken staircase prevented him from finding anything. I hoped that there wasn't some dead body decomposing up here, but the more I looked around, the more plausible that assumption seemed. I shivered with fear.

I never wanted to go back there again.

But Emmett did. And since he was bigger than me and I didn't really have any other friends other than my sister and Jasper Hale, I went with him. Eventually, after that day, we returned home and begged Esme to let us live with her again. She frowned with feigned intolerance, and made us sign declarations of obedience that she made with green construction paper and Sharpie. Whenever we went back, we always told Esme we were going to play baseball or to the library, or something else completely untrue. We wanted to keep the place a secret, somewhere that no one could ever find us. We'd go through the forest to the old white house, sitting in the rocking chairs that still sat on the porch and making up stories about what happened to it. We wondered what it had looked like before it practically fell to pieces, and dreamt about coming back when we were old and out of elementary school to fix it up and live in it together with our wives and our dogs. Emmett would have two golden retrievers, but I was allowed to have only one German shepherd because I was younger. Sometimes we'd bring our gloves and a baseball and play catch in the ferns, the white house watching over us with ancient wisdom. I grew to love the place, liking how Emmett wanted me to come with him there and liking all of the stupid shit we came up with and the games we played. I think that we continued to be close in our teens because of the house, and we came to find it every once in a while. This was only the second time I'd been without him, and this time, I had a very different companion.

"This is a house, Bella," I answered her, staring at the familiar shingles and the peeling of the wooden siding.

"Well, Edward, that's honestly quite obvious." She rolled her eyes as she broke away from me, her pinky pulling out of my grasp. "What is this _doing_ here? In the middle of the woods like this? Who lives here?"

"No one," I said as I sauntered towards the sweeping porch, dragging my feet against the softness of the overgrown ferns. Their leaves brushed against my thighs, and I was glad I'd worn jeans.

"So it's abandoned?"

"Yeah, I guess. Em and I have been coming here for almost ten years and it's been empty all the while."

"It's beautiful," she remarked softly, following close behind me and sitting next to me on the windswept porch swing. "Is this even stable?" she asked, patting the armrest hesitantly.

"Let's just say Emmett can sit in it and it doesn't even give, not the slightest bit." She laughed quietly as she leaned her head against my shoulder. _Fucking strawberries._

She sat there in silence, much like our walk on the way there, rocking us gently back and forth with the toe of her shoe.

"Why did you bring me here, Edward?" she asked suddenly, rubbing the softness of her hair against my neck. I thought carefully before I spoke, and she repeated her question softly under the impression that I hadn't heard her.

"Because, I don't know. I guess…I guess I thought that this is the place I kind of grew in. Emmett and I came here because our house was never that great. We were alone a lot, and I sort of came here to pretend that this had always been my home." She was quiet then, and I guessed that she wanted me to continue. "The first day we came here, the place was filled with rotting food and roaches. It was disgusting, but Emmett thought that it was the coolest thing. I used to think he was so funny and interesting and smart." I laughed, and so did she.

"But we kept bringing all this shit with us when we came, like blankets and action figures and Scrabble and stuff and we sort of…moved in. We came everyday until Esme started to get suspicious—obviously we weren't _really_ going to the library to study everyday like we said we were. But here, we would sit out here or on some stranger's couch and plan our lives. This house was whatever I wanted it to be. I could pretend anything that I wanted when I was here and forget about what I would go home to that night. I was here with Emmett, stretched out in the ferns underneath the sun, and at home, I was underneath a cover of trees in an empty house, trapped in a bedroom that didn't feel like it belonged to me." Bella smiled, lifting her legs and folding them into my lap.

"I want to know about your house. With Carlisle and Esme, I mean. Why do you hate it so much?" I swallowed. This was getting too personal. I liked Bella, but she couldn't know. She couldn't know the sadness and the heaviness that hung heavy on my shoulders beneath the roof of Carlise's home. She couldn't know the sickness that ate away at his body; she couldn't know the darkness of the nighttime that lingered over me. I wanted to know her, but I didn't want her to know me. It wasn't fair. But it was sort of necessary. I wanted to keep this new, sunny Bella safe, and away from the guilt and sorrow of my family that would surely send her back into that uncomfortable, secluded hole that she had only recently emerged from.

"I just hate it, I guess. Carlisle works too much. Alice and Emmett are irritating, same old, same old," I sighed dismissively. I needed to change the subject, and fast. "Tell me about Phoenix. I want to know about your mother." She eyes me carefully, judging my expression carefully before speaking. I prayed that she couldn't see the hollowness in my expression. She simply smirked at me, rolling her eyes before giving me the answers to the questions I so desperately wanted to ask.

Bella gave me the abridged version of her life in Phoenix, even summarizing the divorce of her parents and her mother's recent marriage to her stepfather, Phil. She told me about his gut-wrenching ego trips and his mediocre ball-playing skills, laughing every now and then at his utter tendency of failure and even tearing up as she described her mother's face to me. She described how it felt the first time she was pricked by a cactus, and the feeling of the hot sun on her pale skin. She used her hands to describe the depth of the Arizonan canyons and the size of the sun in the middle of the day. My cheeks flamed with anger as she sadly remembered how the kids at her old school used to look at her, the anger turning to chagrin when I realized that that was, in a nutshell, how_ I _used to look at her. But now she was new, and I was new, and I'd make sure that no one ever looked at her like that again.

She talked and talked, only pausing every now and then to suck in huge breaths between witty stories and fond memories. Eventually, her plump lips formed a pink little "O," a yawn resonating from the back of her throat as her eyes fluttered closed, her head still resting on the shoulder of my jacket. I let out a deep breath, realizing that not once had the conversation turned back to my home or my parents.

Bella slept for a long ass time. She breathed heavily, murmuring softly every once in a while, as the breeze stirred the cascading ferns into rolling waves before us.

I was troubled.

Bella had asked, and I had lied. I lied about my family and my relationship with my father, and I knew that I could never tell her. The thought alone made my chest ache. But telling her would almost be slimy, and I knew I couldn't put something that heavy on her tiny shoulders. _Hey, Bella, I know we're barely even a couple, but my dad's dying of cancer. Want to fuck?_

Even entertaining the notion made me laugh bitterly at myself. Bella stirred at the vibration of my empty chuckles, and I immediately silenced myself as she drifted back to sleep. Everything within me screamed at her shut eyelids, begging her to wake up and listen to what was going on in my head. But she couldn't, and I would never tell her. My limbs were aching with dire need, and I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming and shaking her frame beneath my fingers. _My dad is sick, Bella. My dad is sick and I'm fucking scared and I need somebody. _I screamed the words in my brain but my lips remained mashed together. I'd only known her just over a week, and I was scared shitless. But I kept telling myself that nothing was holding me back, even though I knew all the while that I was lying to myself. _Everything_ was holding me back. Carlisle, loneliness, _everything_.

Bella slept for a while longer before climbing into my lap, sliding her knees beneath my hands and kissing me lazily with little enthusiasm. She was obviously exhausted for reasons unknown, so we hiked back to the house so I could take her home.

She stared at me thoughtfully the entire way to the cul-de-sac off Maple where she lived, not speaking over the quiet music that lingered in the humid air of my car. She occasionally brushed her lips across my knuckles, but she never spoke. She still didn't speak as she left the car, only turning to flash the most devastatingly perfect smile I'd ever seen. She wiggled her fingers, her eyes tired and sad as she pushed open the storm door to her house. She was probably wondering what the hell was wrong with me, not bothering to ask because she seemed to understand me so fucking perfectly and knew that I didn't want to talk about it.

I missed her as I drove home. The car was still as silent as it had been when she was driving with me, but her presence sort of hummed with life that was completely and inexplicably audible to me. Without her, an empty space lingered in the passenger seat, the once-comfortable silence now painfully lonely as I recollected the events of the afternoon and the thoughts that had been repeatedly stabbing at my internal organs.

I took the both sets of stairs leading to the third floor two steps at a time, anxious to crawl beneath my sheets and endure another night of Bella's eyes staring back at me from behind my eyelids. I sighed as I pushed my door open, sliding off my filthy white canvas tennis shoes that were stained brown from the little afternoon nature expedition. A deep voice startled me from across the room, an uncharacteristic yelp squeezing out from between my clenched teeth.

"Edward," Carlisle acknowledged, his ankle resting on his knee as he leaned into the black leather of my sofa.

"Jesus, Carlisle," I swore, running a hand nervously through my unkempt mane of hair. "You scared the shit out of me." Carlisle cocked an eyebrow in disapproval, undoubtedly from my near-constant use of expletives. I threw myself onto my golden duvet dismissively, glad that Carlisle had decided to come up tonight even though I'd missed out on dinner.

"So your mother told me you took that Bella girl out today," he remarked quietly as I began doodling on the edge of an old AP test. "Where did you take her?"

"Around," I answered half-heartedly, digging my pen into my paper as it gave beneath the pressure of the ballpoint. Carlisle chuckled, propping an arm along the back of the couch.

"You take her to Port Angeles or something? Olympia?"

"No," I shook my head, not looking up from the stark lines that ripped across the white page I drew on.

"You took her there, didn't you?" We both knew what he was referring to, and he was right. Carlisle knew the big, white house was a place for me, a sort of refuge.

"Yeah," I nodded, flipping the test over to a fresh side to draw on. "I did, actually."

"And did she like it there?" The design I doodled grew darker and darker as I traced over it several times.

"Yeah. She loved it, actually. Maybe I'll take her back there." My voice was injected with venom, and my father recoiled. I wanted to change the subject, so badly that I itched with anxiousness. Carlisle chewed on the inside of his cheek, his sallow cheekbones sinking like canyons between the bones of his face.

"Edward, are you still mad at me over that?"

I was. I knew I shouldn't be, but I was.

*

Carlisle was given a two-week vacation from the hospital for the summer holiday. It was around five or six years ago, and I think I was about twelve, eleven at the youngest. Emmett and I had tugged on his shirtsleeves and poked at his shoulders, begging for attention as he sat in the leather chair of his study, staring at his computer screen. "What do you _want_, boys?" he'd hissed, his blue eyes barely shifting from the illuminated screen.

"Come outside with us, Dad," Emmett had whined, his 'S's whistling between the gap in his teeth that hadn't yet been closed by braces. "Edward and I want to show you our place."

"I have work to do, Emmett," my father said, his voice thick with irritation. Emmett eyed me carefully, willing me to join in on the argument. Naturally, I complied.

"You have two weeks, Dad," I argued, my eyes still locked with Emmett's. "We've been wanting to show you this _forever_." Carlisle drew in a deep breath.

"_Forever_? Well, in that case, I can make an exception," Carlisle relented, laughing as he pushed away from his desk. "But make it fast, I have work to do."

Needless to say, Carlisle had been furious as the three of us tripped through the woods behind the house we all lived in together, making snide comments and remarks the entire way. "I should be at home, working," he'd snarled as the toe of his shoe caught beneath a tree root. "This is foolish and childish and stupid. Just wait until your mother hears what you've gotten us into."

Emmett offered to turn back, but Carlisle insisted that we'd already forced him too far now to turn back. It was sort of like the time I'd accidentally taken the last of Jasper's mom's favorite cereal as she glared at me with distaste. But then she just smiled at me with a feigned pleasance that didn't touch her resentful eyes, insisting that I could just go ahead and eat it. I knew she was mad I'd gotten the last of it, and rather than taking it from me, her punishment was to make me feel as badly as possible as I shoveled it into my mouth, guilt hitting me harder and harder with each bite. Then, in the woods with my only brother and my angry father, was exactly like Jasper's mom and her fucking cereal.

The clearing met the tips of our toes suddenly, and my eyes finally left the ground to take in all three stories of the beautifully rundown house. The three of us stood in a line along the clearing, staring through the dusty and cracked windowpanes in stillness. Carlisle was the first to break it.

"This?" was all he asked, his mouth hanging open and his brow furrowed in apparent vehemence. A substantial amount of time passed before he finished his thought. "This…this is what you brought me all this way for? An old, dirty house?" His tone had turned from disbelief to the thickness of unadulterated anger.

"It's our favorite place to be," I explained in stutters, confusion spreading over my features. "We thought you'd like it. We thought you'd want to come with us here from now on." Emmett nodded in concurrence as we stared up at the face of our father. Carlisle chuckled resentfully, shaking his head sharply. His eyes fluttered closed, and when he opened them, he held me beneath his gaze like an ant beneath a magnifying glass. His eyes were full of almost hatred, glaring back at mine as my chin quivered.

"I have things to _do_, Edward. I have a _life_. I was busy, and you interrupted me to find this…this…this _thing_."

"But--,"

"Let me finish, Edward," he hissed, holding me in place beneath his penetrating stare. "I want you to take me back home, the fastest way you know how, and I want you to stop coming here. You don't know who this house belongs to, and it's not yours."

"But it's abandoned, Dad," Emmett argued. "No one's been here for a long time. Ed and I have been coming for years and nothing bad's ever happened, I promise."

"YEARS?" Carlisle gasped, his eyes widening. "Years? What have you been doing, just lying to your mother and I about all this?" He was towering over me as Emmett shifted nervously on the other side of him, my teeth chattering in fear of the man that I loved as he hung over me with rage. "Take me back," he ordered. "Take me back right now. And when we get there, go to your rooms and stay there before I can decide what to do with you."

Carlisle had closed himself back in that fucking study for the rest of his two weeks at home. He hid away from me as I wallowed in shame, calling myself every name I could think of as I wished that I had never brought my father to my special place. Em and I could never go back there, and all of the plans I'd made while we decided what breeds of dogs we'd own and how we'd ever get to the top two stories crashed into rubble. Some of those plans included my father, and Em and I had decided that when Carlisle got old we'd let him live with us in that big white house in the middle of the woods. Esme could visit occasionally, and maybe Alice, too. But it would be my brother, Carlisle, and me, and we'd be happy there until our dogs died and we died, too. As I sat alone in my bedroom on the top floor, I cringed at my foolish ideas, hiding them away in the back of my mind as the idea of ever being friends with my father slipped away as if it had never been there.

*

Carlisle didn't mean it. As I looked at him now, his blue eyes were no longer hard and terrifying as they had been that day. I remembered how they used to be so clearly, a still frame in my mind of his old eyes, full of horror and coldness and blue. But now, they were soft, and almost apologetic. I looked up from the sharp strokes of my pen, meeting the new eyes that didn't exist three weeks before that very moment.

"I'm sorry, son," he whispered, his head drooping. "I don't know if you remember that day as well as I do." Before now, we'd never spoken of it. But I thought of it often, just like I thought of the study door and the unsigned birthday card.

"I remember." My throat was dry suddenly as I looked to my lap.

"I wish I could take it back," Carlisle breathed. "I wish I had pulled on some tennis shoes and I wish I had sat on that porch with the two of you and let you tell me all about that place." I shook my head, scraping in a breath.

"I do, too, Dad," I confessed, attempting to find his eyes. They stubbornly remained against my gold carpet, so I simply stared at his down-turned face. "I wish you had loved it. That's all we hoped."

"I know. I knew that as I saw your head hung with shame when I sent you to your bedroom. It must have been lonely up here, all alone." He attempted a smile, but it was a wasted effort.

"Kind of," I admitted. "But it's fine now. That was, like, five years ago. It's fine now."

"I often think about what would be if I had stayed. I wonder if things would be different if I hadn't been so consumed within myself. I wonder what the relationship between you and I would be like if I had sat with you in those ferns or on that porch, if only for a little while." He inhaled heavily, his eyes clouding slightly before returning back to normal.

"It is what it is, Carlisle," I answered him. My tone was not one of bitterness or frustration. It was just…heavy. Heavy with truth and regret and an undertone of sadness. His decisions were irrevocable, but none of it mattered anymore. Not with his circumstance, and not with my strong desire to be less angry with him for years and years of neglect that were now unalterable. He nodded without speaking, one eye spilling over just enough to send a silent trail of wetness down his wasted cheek.

"I want you to take me there again, Edward." I thought I had heard him wrong, before he repeated himself.

"But…why?" I asked incredulously. "You don't need to seek atonement for anything, Dad. It's not your fault."

"It's not yours, either, Edward. You need to stop living your life taking the blame for everything."

"It was my fault. I shouldn't have taken you with us, you were busy…" At my words, Carlisle was out of his seat, his palm smacking the leather cushioning with a piercing _smack_.

"ENOUGH!" he ordered, his shoulders shaking. "Enough! Enough, Edward! Stop it! Stop it now, or you will never be able to."

"W-what?" I uttered, my body tense and unmoving as he shook before me.

"Enough!" he repeated. "None of this is _your fault_. I'm not sick because of you, our home isn't a concentration camp because of you, Esme doesn't cry herself to sleep every night because of you. I wasn't a terrible father because of you, and _it's not your damn fault_." My mouth popped open, my fingers grasping the edges of my cluttered test paper.

"Please, Edward. Please stop. I can't bear it. I know that you don't owe me anything. You owe me absolutely nothing, and I shouldn't dream of asking anything of you. But I have to ask you to stop blaming yourself. You waste away up here as your life slips by, and I can't leave you like this. I can't leave you here to pass life up like I did mine." I cringed at his casual talk of his impending death, and his tone softened as he registered the unease of my face. "I need you to stop. Please. For me, for Esme, for everyone."

"Okay," was all I answered. It was all I could say. His words hit me like a fresh slap in the face, and I was in a state of shock. Carlisle hastily attempted to rearrange his face, carefully piecing his eyes and mouth back to a state of calmness. He turned to exit the room as I continued to sit there with wide eyes and an open mouth, turning to face me again as he pulled open my door.

"And I want you to take me back, Edward. Take me back. I promise it will be different."


	13. Blue Sheets

**A/N: sorry about all the typos in the last couple chapters. they were written in the wee hours of the morning, so i blame a lack of proper attentiveness. a little piece of lemon pie for you. i tried not to be creepy about it. but i warned you about the angst, and here it comes!**

**APOV**

I was thankful for the passing time.

I was stuck in my own skin, squirming around like a worm on hot pavement, begging for an escape. It was excruciating.

Edward and Emmett had each other, at least. That should have made me happy. I was trying to be happy all the time because it was simply expected of me. I couldn't believe how faithful and loyal Jasper remained over the first month of the school year—he never failed to listen to my rant sessions or to rub the back of my neck gently when I cried against his shoulder.

"Sh, Al. I'm here," he'd whisper, littering the sides of my neck with kisses. I pitied him in a way. If _I_ had a girlfriend constantly having mental breakdowns, I'm not sure how well I would be able to handle that. But he was able, and that's all that mattered.

I felt, more often times than not, like I was hiking up a mountain with a five thousand ton pack on my back. My mother avoided me, and my brothers excluded me. I'm sure none of it was intentional, simply the way that they chose to handle grief. But I could hear my brothers laughing, the two of them down the hall or up the stairs, as I sat alone on the edge of my bed much like I had the day I found out.

Rain was expected.

The ground nearer to sea level had been experiencing some flash flooding, and it was almost impossible to walk on terrain without sinking in up to my ankles. Sure, I had designer rain boots, but for some reason, now I felt stupid in them. My clothes didn't fit even though I hadn't gained or lost any weight, and my room had outgrown me. Generally, people outgrow their homes. Their families grow and there simply isn't enough space anymore, so they move on. I had never known that your house could outgrow you. That you could suddenly be too small, slipping through the wrinkles in the floors of your own home. I was scared, so scared that my breath caught dryly in my throat as my windows gazed down at me with a wisdom and a knowledge that I knew I could never have. They had seen me, through all of this, and I was ashamed. I was a child, and they were scolding me. I was weak. I was weak, and I couldn't change any of it. I couldn't save Carlisle and I couldn't hold Emmett and Edward's interest. I could at least talk to my mother, but she was nowhere to be found.

Family dinner had become a tradition. Since the day that my dad's sickness was common knowledge among all of us, Esme made us all sit down and eat her food and make forced, polite conversation. It was always uncomfortable, generally consisting of clipped sentences and pointed glances. We communicated with one another using our eyes, widening them and squinting them and darting them and rolling them to agree with or to chastise one another. It was _exhausting_.

I wanted to be seventeen, doing stupid things and being with Jasper and not having a care in the world other than what I would wear the next day. But suddenly I felt middle-aged and washed up, and I wondered how long Jasper could stick around for me. I needed him, more than I needed air. It sounded a bit melodramatic, and although melodrama was commonplace for me, it was absolutely and completely true. Jasper was my anchor, and I wondered if he knew that. He kept me in place, he was my center. He had turned away from his near-constant anger, away from his toughness, and was now everything I needed. And as he stroked my hair while I cried on his shoulder, I knew.

"Jasper?" I asked, my tone muffled as he smashed my face into the flannel of his shirt.

"You don't have to talk right now if you don't want to, sweetheart." He cradled me, my legs swept up into his arms like a baby as he held his palm firmly to the back of my neck, rubbing his thumb softly behind my ear. He had softened up substantially over the past month or so, at least around me, and his voice was so saturated with care and hurt for me that it made me cry all over again. "I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?" he asked, his tone getting slightly frantic as he pulled away to meet my gaze.

"No. You're perfect," I murmured, wiping away the remnants of my makeup and staring back at him. He laughed at me then, and it wasn't one of humor or sarcasm. It was just empty.

"You're delusional, Al. I think you need some sleep."

I didn't need sleep. Sleep was all I did. Sleeping took away the pain that I didn't deserve, sleeping washed out the sounds of my family living their lives as mine stayed still. Jasper and I went on only one date after that Friday night before it all went wrong. I turned back into a zombie, like I had when I found out, and it killed me to know that Jasper was holding out for me when I maybe would never return back to normal. At school, I stayed sunny, chirping to Bella and holding Jasper's hand and keeping up with my studies like I normally would. But it was afternoons like this, in my car or on Jasper's front porch or in my ancient bedroom, that I lost it. And Jasper was almost always there, which could have either been perfect or terrible. But sleep was not something I was losing along with my dad. So I laughed back hollowly at Jasper's assumptions, shifting to straddle him as we sat on his tiny little twin bed.

"I'm fine," I promised, trying desperately to pull my face back together despite the feeling of utter, sinking doom that I felt in the pit of my stomach. I brushed his wild, blond hair back gingerly with my fingers, kissing the bridge of his slightly freckled nose. "I'm just fine now. Thank you. For, you know, putting me back together."

"That sounds like you're a puzzle or something," he smirked, wrapping his arms around my waist and locking his fingers together behind me.

"I guess you could put it that way," I said thoughtfully, moving my cheek against his. His lips moved to kiss my cheek softly, and his gestures were so hesitant and careful that I wanted to scream at him. But it was my fault we were in this position and not like any normal, horny, hormonal teenage couple, so I kept my mouth shut. A few moments of silence—save the rain pounding loudly on his only window—passed before he spoke.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked gently in my ear before leaning back against the wall to look at my face. His face was one of devastation, of never knowing what I closed up in my skull without explanation as I cried to him. I rarely told him what I was crying about, and still, he comforted me. No questions asked, he was there. And these facts weren't helping as I tried to hold back the waterworks.

"You," I answered, my fingers finding the familiar stubbly edge of his jaw.

"What about me?"

I bit my lip with consideration. I was afraid, and that didn't happen to me often. I had been confident, fearless. But now, on his bed in his handkerchief-sized room as the rain poured down the panes of his window, my body was shaken with pure panic. I brushed his jaw for a few beats, making the circuit up to his ears and back down to where it met his neck a few times before answering him.

"Jazz?" I asked, my voice trembling as I stared into his dark blue eyes, counting his eyelashes.

"What's going on, Alice?" He sounded slightly irritated, or at least confused, as he stared back.

"If I tell you, will you run away from me?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because, you just might." My explanations were ill thought-out and childish, but he was used to that kind of thing by now. His eyes, which had already been staring at me, now really _looked_ at me. They burned into my irises with intensity as the insides of his wrists tightened around my waist.

"Alice," he said slowly, "I swear to God that I will never, _never_ run away from you. I swear it." He almost hissed the words at me, with so much determination and an undertone of anger, that I nearly recoiled as the fear built up inside of me.

"O-okay," was all I managed to stutter as he gazed at me, unblinking.

"What _is_ it, Alice?" He was waiting, and I was stalling. "Is it something about Edward? Your father? _What_?"

"No, nothing like that," I blubbered, looking down to his chest as it rose and fell beneath the pattern of his shirt. I cleared my throat before continuing. "I just wanted to know that…that you're here. And that you're not quitting."

"Well, you know now. You know that as long as you allow me to be here, I will be. I'll let you ruin the sleeves of all my shirts and take up as much of my time as you want. As long as you want me."

"I want you, always," I swore, a surge of adrenaline rushing through my veins. Why was this so _hard_?

"Tell me," he insisted, grasping my hips tenderly beneath his hands. "Please. It's killing me that you can't tell me." I scraped in a breath through my teeth, raking my eyes away from his chest, over his chin and his lips and his nose until they finally met his expectant stare.

"I-I um..I love you?" My statement came out as a question as I snapped my mouth closed, watching his face for a reaction. Confusion colored his features, and I decided to repeat myself. "I love you, Jasper. You don't have to love me back, but I love you with everything I have even though I don't have much left. I want to tell you that I'm glad you're here for me, because I couldn't do this alone."

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. The minute hand on the clock crawled obstinately as he struggled to speak.

"Say something," I urged quietly, embarrassment washing over my cheeks.

"You don't have to do this," he muttered, looking beside him at the blue of his bedspread. "I know you're upset, but that doesn't mean you have to be in love with me, Al. I'll still stay here for you, no matter what. You don't _have_ to love me."

"I know!" I blurted, hurt by his assumptions. "I know that! This has nothing to do with my life, in that sense. What I'm trying to say is that this," I gestured between the two of us, "has nothing to do with anyone else but you and me. Not anyone else. Not one, single person, Jasper, I swear." He continued to stare down at his bedcover, his eyes clouded.

"Do you mean it?" he asked softly. "Do you really mean it? You love me? Even if Carlisle dies tomorrow, or if I didn't let you cry on my shoulder every day, would you still feel it?" His blatancy was shocking, but surprisingly, it didn't hurt me this time. He was so naked beneath my stare, and it was strange for me to see him so insecure.

"I would. Without a question." His finally looked at me then, his jaw set in a firm line and his eyelashes wet.

"Don't do this to me if you're just going to take it back." He took his hands from my hips, crossing them over his chest as I continued to straddle him.

"Don't be like this, Jasper," I whined, trying without success to rip his arms away from the complicated knot they formed. I yearned for the warmth of his hands against me, the intensity of his eyes on my face. And as I bared my soul to him, everything that filled my mind and heart and lungs, he sat there coldly, his warmth away from me. "Please, don't be like this."

At my words, his hands were around my waist again, but not tenderly this time. He stood, lifting me from his lap and planting me on my feet away from him.

"People don't love me, Alice. People don't love me. Don't you ever wonder why I am how I am? I have fucking _Rosalie_ as a fucking sister. People don't love me. So why should you?" He shook with anger and hurt, and it was the most terribly beautiful and devastating thing I'd ever seen. His breathing was frantic and panicky, his body tensed as if he were prepared to run from me. My heart broke beneath his raw pain as I stood there alone, his face tortured and lonely. I mustered up what little courage I had.

"You live your life, Jasper, like you're doing it all alone. You, of all people, should know what I have to go through." Guilt flashed over his features as his eyes still remained stubbornly just over my shoulder. "You _know_ what I go through. You know what I have to do everyday. And _you_ don't feel loved? I'm sitting here telling you how much I fucking love you with everything I have left and you're shoving it away. And _you_ don't feel _loved_? That just fucking sucks, Jasper." I looked to the floor at my bare feet, my heart pounding furiously in my chest.

"I-I can't...you can't.." he broke off, his voice thickening as he yelled across the empty space between us.

"Be here, Jasper," I pleaded. "Please, just be here. I need you to know...just to know what I feel for you. I can't take you doing this to me, not on top of everything. I wish you could understand me, just once." Just then, a broken, ripping sound caught my attention, my eyes darting from the floor to a pair of pained, blue eyes.

Jasper was there, tears pouring down his cheeks as he choked out broken sobs. He was looking at me, his hair wild around his strong face, his shoulders slumped and defeated. Within seconds, he crossed the small space between us, crushing my body to his chest as his tears ran freely through my hair. His chest heaved against mine, his fingers clutching at the skin of my back as he wept. I wrapped my arms around his neck, sprinkling kisses along his cheeks and his neck and his forehead and everywhere I possibly could. He was in agony, and I wanted him to speak so I could know exactly why. I wanted, for once, to comfort him as he had comforted me those many times, to tell him it was alright and to let him use me as I'd used him. His chokes were excruciating, loud and unreserved as my ear pressed to his throat.

"I love you, Alice," he whispered in torn fragments. "I love you. I have, and I will, and I'm sorry." I brushed the hair at the nape of his neck carefully with cautious fingers, wondering if his outburst was just an act of impulse. He seemed to hear my thoughts as his fingernails dug into the fabric of my t-shirt, yanking me away from him to look at me. His eyes were bloodshot, his lips twisted into a sick scowl. "I love you so much that it hurts me. You're so perfect, Alice, and I stay with you everyday because I hate to see your face ruined with all the fucking shit you have to go through." Now, I cried with him. "I never want you to leave me. Please, don't leave me, Alice. I'm in this too far, and I can't take you walking away from me. You can do so much better, and it scares the shit out of me. But I love you, I love you so much you don't even understand, and I'm freaked the fuck out because you can just leave me at anytime and I won't be able to take it."

"I can't leave you, Jasper. You see me as this…this flighty, impermanent person that can just pick up and leave you, any time, and I don't understand why. I'm here, and I need you. I'm tired of being seen as this being who has no earnest emotionalism, someone who has no purpose beyond getting dressed in expensive clothes every morning and making good grades."

"You're more than that, and I see you for what you are," he said, taking my face in his hands. "I will love you as long as you're here for me, and I promise I will be whatever you need me to be, Alice. I will be indestructible for you; I will hide you from the ugly things that will ruin you from what you are."

It was so obvious what had to happen next. Practical. Expected, almost. I felt like I was in a movie, or some television hit series as the two of us tangled into his messy, blue sheets. Except, this was _my life_. Jasper was so real beneath my hands, his eyes like a little boy's as he looked at me with nervousness. I was afraid, and not because I'd never been with anyone before, but because this time, there was feeling attached to it. I'd never loved anyone I had sex with, and it was almost like I had a new set of eyes this time. He slipped my clothes from my skin, the room gray with the natural light from the window as he put my head against his pillow. His eyes lingered on my skin as he pulled the covers over us, licking his lips in anticipation. I didn't look at Jasper's long, perfect body with lustful eyes like I would have four weeks ago. Now I looked at his six feet, two inches with almost appreciation as I rolled over on top of him. It seemed so strange to me, that I was with Jasper, completely naked, in his childhood bed that had remained unchanged since I first knew him almost eleven years before that. It was so strange, but so faultless at the same time that it made the fringes of my thoughts hazy.

Jasper told me how much he loved me all over again as he ran his fingers over every inch of my skin, lingering in some places more than others, almost painfully slowly. He was rough, but always careful, as if I could break beneath his grasp.

"You are so perfect," he whispered as he planted a kiss above my bellybutton, my fingers tangling into the blonde hair that I loved so much. Before I could blink, he slid two long fingers into me, a low hiss building up in my chest as the rain continued to pound against the window. Every detail was so clear to me as I shuddered beneath him, my toes tingling as my eyes rolled back into my head. I tried to think of it as often as possible so that I could never forget. I silently thanked whoever was in charge of fate that Rose had chosen today to go with Emmett to Port Angeles and that Jasper's parents had taken a vacation to Alaska. Because the sighs and gasps and screams that slipped over my tongue were less than quiet, and also less than ladylike.

Jasper had lasted a while, and as I rose from the bed, wrapped in his dark sheet, I felt tired and sore. He sat up, uncovered and exposed, a yawn rumbling in his throat as he rubbed his bloodshot eyes. He dragged a pillow over his lap as he sat cross-legged, facing me, with a lazy smile on his pink lips.

"Don't hide," he muttered, his voice thick with the remnants of lust and of sleepiness from the afternoon's emotion. I smiled back at him, dropping the sheet and standing before him in the middle of his bedroom without shame. His eyes widened infinitesimally as he scanned my body, biting his lips and pushing the pillow down over his lap as I laughed. He opened his arms to me, beckoning for me to come back, but I just snickered and turned to pull my jeans on.

"We always have tomorrow," I promised. "And the next day, and the next day…"

"I'll hold on to that," he laughed, leaning against the wall and crossing his ankles. When I pulled my head through the hole of my t-shirt, he was already standing, his boxers on. He pulled me against him, the memories of the last hour awakening in my brain as the planes of his chest and stomach flexed beneath me. He planted a warm, soft kiss on the top of my head, rubbing the back of my neck with one hand as he so often did. "I love you, Al. I mean it," he murmured, tracing my spine with his fingertips.

"I know you do," I sighed. "I know."

It was hard to walk away from him, and to climb into Esme's Mercedes to head home. Edward had the Volvo again, undoubtedly to whisk Bella off to some other secret location, and I was glad for him. I had found peace, somehow, within the arms of Jasper Hale. And Edward deserved that, too.

Emmett's relationship remained a mystery to me, since Rose and I had started the 'don't ask, don't tell' pact, but I could see in the symmetry of his face how happy he was. He was safe, and now, so was I. I knew Bella could take care of my twin brother, and I thought of him briefly before turning my thoughts back to my afternoon's adventures in the blue sheets of Jasper's bedroom.

**A/N: hip hip hooray! reviews are the best. even better than Jangstper ;)**


	14. Gray Sweat Pants

**A/N: i'm going to start posting a song per chapter that inspired me, because i dig music and i dig twilight and i dig fanfic so i think it will make a trifecta of harmonious glory. this chapter is one of my favorites as far as developing edward's character goes. it kind of shows how quirky and stupid and just...edward-y he is. so i hope you like it :)  
song: **'wake up' by arcade fire

**EPOV**

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, as sure as my own birthday, I knew that face.

Alice had this look that was both permanent and out-of-place on her usual drooped snarl, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. She was literally almost flying around the fucking kitchen, twirling and singing and doing all this other weird shit that would have been fine without a question a month ago. But these days, she was depressed and reclusive and strange, so the whole twirly happy shit was just plain wrong.

I knew what was going on. I knew it. And it both made me happy for her and it also made me want to kick Jasper Hale's ass.

Alice was completely and undoubtedly post-coital. Her fucking heel clicking was proof of that.

"What the hell is wrong with you, woman?" Emmett bellowed as we sat together at the kitchen island. It was Sunday afternoon, just over three weeks since I learned what Bella's lips felt like, and Carlisle was on some bonding boat trip thing with Dr. Gerandy and Esme was at her office catching up on all of the work she was putting off to stay home with him. Emmett scooped a bite of Cap'N Crunch into his mouth, slurping noisily.

"Nothing," Alice giggled, her body positively shaking with bliss. I rolled my eyes as I picked a cold pizza-flavored Hot Pocket to bits with my fingers, anxious to get out of there and away from Alice's pleasure-fest.

"Isn't it obvious, Em?" I scoffed. "Alice got laid." Alice yelped a high-pitched squeal of shock at my barefacedness, and I heard Emmett's spoon drop from his hand.

"Is it true?" he asked gruffly, lifting up one side of his face to look at her. I knew then that it was a mistake to be sitting between the two of them—Emmett was huge and Alice was a yeller. She leered at him, popping a grape into her tiny mouth and chewing it slowly before answering.

"Not like I'd tell you, anyways," she sang, the smug grin on her face confirming my suspicions.

"Jasper Hale is fucking dead," he muttered, pushing his bar stool away from him as he turned to leave the kitchen. I was surprised he didn't finish scarfing down his cereal, first.

"Emmett, calm the fuck down. It's no big deal," I called after him with a bored tone. He turned so quickly to face Alice and I that it was almost inhuman.

"Alice is a child, Edward. Jasper is too old for her and she's not responsible enough for…that." His eyes were wide with aberrant rage, and it was odd to see him so angry when he generally hadn't a care in the world.

"I'm not a kid, Emmett. You're a fucking year older than me. I know what a fucking condom is, I'm not an idiot." Alice sounded irritated, and her smile had turned into a sneer, but I could see it still in the light of her eyes.

"Do you even know the kind of shit he does, Alice?" Emmett hollered, pounding one huge fist on the granite counter top. For a second, I thought the stone would break from the impact. "He's a filthy son-of-a-bitch, and I don't want you to see him anymore."

"He's _your_ friend," Alice accused with an eye roll.

"Yeah, he is. And he's no fucking good for you."

"You're wrong."

Oh _Jesus_. Why did I have to be there? I should have just gotten up and ran to my bedroom, but I knew that Emmett would bitch me out later about 'not having his back' or some other stupid shit like that. So I stayed put, chewing my Hot Pocket, looking back and forth between the two of them like a tennis match.

"No, Alice! I know what I'm talking about. Jasper fucks and ducks. I know him. He's not good enough for you." Emmett was shaking, his brown eyes swimming furiously.

"Obviously he doesn't, Emmett, considering he came back for round two last night."

I wanted to both plug my ears and throw up all the pizza sauce tossing around in my stomach. Alice severely lacked a brain filter, but out of choice rather than a Bella-like case where it was merely accidental. Alice had no shame, or dignity, and bragging about her sex life seemed to be included in that. It made me sick.

"Agh!" Emmett shouted, shoving his fists to his temples. "Shut the hell up, Alice. You're fucking disgusting." Alice shot him an impish grin as Emmett flitted around angrily, sitting lazily at the bar stool and popping grapes into her mouth one by one.

"Calm down, Em," I piped up, my tone still uninterested. "You can't screw around with Alice's friend and then get all pissy when she does the same thing with yours."

"So I guess you're on her side now, huh?" he asked, his brow furrowing into his deep-set eyes. "_I'm_ looking out for her, and _you're_ passing it off as no big deal."

"It isn't, really. I've pretty much fucked around with everyone Jasper has. Following in his footsteps, if you will." I cracked a smile, wondering where I'd suddenly found the balls I'd just grown. Maybe it was a result of sheer boredom from the monotony that was Emmett and Alice bickering. I wanted to spice things up a bit. "He doesn't have any secret STDs or anything," I continued. "He's not a complete asshole."

"Yeah, he's not. But _you_ are." And he left the room.

I was sure that there was more bothering Emmett than Alice getting busy with our childhood friend. I was still shocked that she'd even admitted it, but it was unlike Emmett to get so worked up over _anything_, even if it was our sister and her…was 'experimenting' the right word? I couldn't think of any other way to put it. But he'd remained pretty sane beneath the roof of the Cullen household as we all wallowed in our individual pain. Carlisle was about to start treatment, and while I wondered why he was so hesitant to fight the cancer, I though that the therapy would lift everyone's spirits. I talked to Emmett daily, and I knew he and Rose were doing pretty well. Sure, she was a selfish, narcissistic bitch-and-a-half, but she was good for him. She was sort of an outlet for Emmett, someone to ease his pain. But maybe it was worse than I'd assumed. His little episode has just revealed that.

I told Bella about the whole thing that night over the phone. She giggled hysterically like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard, telling me a similar story to when she'd once had to referee her mother and Phil's argument. I loved it when she did that shit. She let me in, opening up pieces of skin and bone and muscle that hid her away from me. I always had to prompt her to keep going, and I'm sure she thought that I was getting tired of her talking all the time. She didn't believe me when I told her I loved hearing her talk, and I could almost feel her blush through the receiver. I wanted to talk to her all night, but her cute little yawns and slurred speaking indicated that she was wiped out. I was reluctant to let her go—Carlisle wouldn't be home in time to come up that night and I would have hours of uninterrupted thinking time, Bella's hollow eyes burning holes in my brain the entire time.

Fuck fuck _fucking_ fuck. I knew I should have kept her on the line. The house was a ghost town like that one Monday night the last week of summer, and it was excruciating. But this time, Emmett wasn't speaking to me and there were no blank checks for pizza waiting for me downstairs. I missed the sounds of my mother moving in the kitchen, Carlisle's footsteps from his study echoing up the stairs. I couldn't hear Emmett's bellowing laughter, or Alice's chirpy voice chattering into the telephone. It was like someone had died. Although that was an inappropriate way of describing the silence of my house, considering the circumstances we were all under, it was a perfect analogy. No doubt, Alice and Em were still angry from the chaos of the evening, and I knew I wouldn't see them at least until morning. Emmett would probably bolt out early to avoid us, and it was slightly ridiculous.

I glanced over at the clock. It was only 11:15, and I cursed myself for the cup of coffee I'd drank before coming up. _Fucking caffeine_. I shifted on my bed, trying to find different positions to get comfortable, but to no avail. I even translated a quarter of book one of _Paradise Lost_, which was irritating beyond measure, but at least it got some schoolwork out of the way. There was absolutely no way I'd join the damned Cult of Domesticity again and bake a batch of cookies, and I was sort of afraid to leave the room. My siblings were emotional roller coasters, and it intimidated me. Plus, Carlisle and Esme had now been home for a while, doing whatever they did to prepare to settle in for the night. I had no idea what I was going to do.

Like clockwork, almost like a sign from God himself, my cell vibrated against the carpet across the room from where it was plugged into the wall. I rolled off the bed, padding toward the outlet and ripping the charger jack from it. A fierce smile ripped over my face, my cheeks warming as I read the name on the text message alert.

_New TXT MSG from: Bella._

There _was_ a God.

With anxious fingers, I flipped the face open to the keypad, my fingers stumbling stupidly as I tried to open the message.

_Can't sleep after all, _it said._ Come over?_

God bless Bella Swan. Had she somehow known that she was etched in my brain? That she fucking stared at me all day and night as I restlessly tossed and turned? My life was beginning to sound like some stuffy romance novel, and it made me feel pussy-whipped. But at least it was Bella who was slowly, but surely whipping me. Not like I'd ever tell _her_ that.

_Now?_ I replied, the same smile still splashed foolishly across my cheeks. Almost instantly, she buzzed a reply.

_Duh, now._

Oh god. It was irresponsible and stupid and I knew Carlisle and Esme would flip shit if they found out I crawled through some girl's window in the middle of the night, never mind that it was two stories off the ground. But I needed her now, and my chest pulled me towards her no matter where she was. These illegitimate and poorly thought-out reasons brought me behind the wheel of the Volvo by 1 AM. It was even later than last time, and I managed to slip by my parents' bedroom with barely a creak of the wood beneath my feet. I knew I wouldn't be caught, and even if by some chance I was, I didn't care. It _would_ be like Emmett to snoop around and tattle on me like a child, but that didn't stop me, either.

It was fucking cold outside. Colder than usual for Forks, and, surprise, surprise, it was raining. I parked my conspicuous silver car around the corner from her house, almost running to her lawn as the mist trickled uncomfortably down the back of my hoodie.

Bella was a _saint_. A ladder, like the kind you buy in case of a house fire, was hanging from her open window, the muted glow of her tableside lamp casting shadows on the dark grass below. Maybe, just maybe, I could make it up this time without injuries. Perhaps even this time I could avoid getting the shit kicked out of me by a hundred-and-ten pound girl.

She was standing with her back to me, pulling a shirt off over her head, when I pulled myself up through the window. I had no idea how she hadn't heard my less than graceful ascent up the old chain ladder, or even my grunts as I hoisted myself over the sill, but I was glad she hadn't.

"Fuck!" she gasped as I ran my pointer finger down her naked spine. She spun to me, the flimsy, coral fabric of her t-shirt pressed to her bare chest and her eyes as round as saucers. The shock faded quickly to her eyes as she crossed her arms awkwardly over her tits, anger taking its mark across her delicate features. "Edward, you have _got_ to stop coming in here like this." I smiled defiantly, seizing the opportunity as I pulled her into me to plant a kiss on her pale forehead.

"You must be deaf, Bell," I snickered. "I made about as much noise as Fat Man and Little Boy on the way up here." She scoffed as she pulled away from me—now that the instant of surprise was gone, she remembered to be embarrassed over the fact that I was holding her and she didn't have a shirt on. I sighed as she snatched a clean white top from her bed and nearly ran to the alcove, her spine rippling beneath her skin in a way that made my palms sweat.

There wasn't really any way I could blame her. Bella was still reserved, although I'd managed to knock down a few of her walls over the past four weeks. Still, in the grand scheme of things, I wasn't even _close_ to knowing Bella, so I couldn't pass judgment as she gathered her boobs beneath her arms and ran headlong for the nook beside her door. I walked backwards blindly, my eyes still on her retreating form, until the edge of her bed met the back of my knees. I plopped down lazily, kicking my shoes off sloppily as I rested against her pillows. Their cases smelled like her hair, and my head spun as I caught a glimpse of her feathery fingers in the soft light.

"Don't you have a phone or something? You could have called to give me a little more warning," she complained as she padded toward me, curling up against my chest.

"Sorry," I mumbled half-heartedly, pulling my fingers through her damp hair. "I thought you'd hear me."

"Well apparently, _I'm deaf_," she retorted. I could feel the edges of her lips curl up through the cotton of my shirt, and I wanted to see her eyes. I turned to my side, pulling her face up until it was level with mine.

"Better," I sighed as I appraised her tiny face between my hands. Her brown eyes were swimming with life, so different from the hollow ones that haunted my every thought, and I wondered why I just couldn't simply remember them perfectly how they were just then. I knew that I could try, but that I would forget as soon as I had to leave her in the morning until I saw her again. She had light circles resting beneath her eye sockets from an apparent lack of sleep, and her lips were slightly chapped. She was beautiful.

She reached up a hand to wrap around my wrist as I cradled her face, hooking one leg loosely over my hip.

Her spontaneity came more quickly than expected in our short-lived relationship, and I was fucking glad that it did. After the day I brought her to my white house in the woods, she never tried to hide her affections unless we were at school. She still held my hand as we walked together, and kissed me whenever I leaned in to her. But Rose still terrified her, and anything that could possibly attract attention to Bella was fiercely avoided as she chose, instead, to wallow in solitary silence beneath Rose's gaze. I tried to explain how Rose was harmless, merely painted to look like a terror when really she was just a bitch with lots of makeup on, but Bella didn't budge. So I merely kept only her hand as she stumbled along the pavements, sneaking in kisses when no one was watching. I was totally and completely fucking blissed out, and it was a pleasant change from the girl tears that had been formerly making a copious amount of appearances.

Like a wish come true, as I thought of Bella's soft lips on mine in my mind, she took my bottom lip between hers as we hummed together on her itchy purple bedspread. I moaned, pulling her onto my chest as I rolled onto my back, the image of her naked fucking spine playing on repeat behind my closed eyelids. It hurt to have her on top of me like this while resisting the urge to rip her clothes off. The nip of her teeth on my lip kindly accented this fact, the final blow in a boxing match.

Suddenly, her lips weren't urgent as they had been before, and her chin jutted up and away from me as my eyes flickered open. She was straddled on me now, her palms pressed against my chest as her hair formed a messy cloud around her scowled face.

"Edward, what are you doing?" Her voice had a trace of irritation. Irritation and..was that...fear? Embarrassment?

"What are you talking about?" I asked stupidly, realizing half a second too late that my fingers were jammed underneath the waistband of the tight cotton sweatpants she wore low around her hips. I snatched them away like a boy caught with his hands in the cookie jar before dinner, warmth flooding my cheeks as her brows furrowed.

"Edward…I…" she trailed off, swinging her left leg away from my side and crumpling beside me. Her cheeks were flaming red, the set of her jaw defeated as she slumped into the pillows. She pulled her knees to her chin, her eyes as hollow as they always were in my head.

"Shit, Bella, I'm sorry." And I was. I was sorry I'd pushed her too far, but I'd barely been aware that I was doing it. She was bewitching me, wrapping me around her finger, and I couldn't help myself. I was also sorry for another reason. I was sorry that she didn't feel comfortable like that with me yet, and that she had to even consider drawing away from me.

"It's fine, it's fine," she murmured, leaning her head hesitantly against my shoulder as my breathing returned to normal. It was beyond frustrating as I absorbed her gesture of pity. She felt stupid for having to pull away, foolish for questioning my motives in the first place, and sorry that she'd bruised my ego. I almost wished that she just wouldn't touch me at all—the weight of her head on my shoulder was a stabbing reminder that I'd just been rejected. "You don't need to be sorry," she added, twisting the knife that was already in my chest. "I'm just not..ready. For that."

"It's not your fault. It's too soon…I should have asked…"

"It was to be expected. I just caught me off guard, is all." I was shocked that she wasn't stuttering or stammering, and also that her blush was remotely controlled to the confines of her cheekbones rather than the full-body flush she took on during particularly uncomfortable situations.

"I won't touch you like that again. I didn't know.." I broke off before I could say something to make the circumstances even more awkward than they already were. I tried to avoid her eyes that were gazing up at the edge of my jaw in fear that the rejection would completely set in as soon as I met her stare. I expected her to speak again, but she didn't.

Instead, after a few deep breaths and concentrated silence, she twisted to sit on my lap once more as I slouched against her headboard, placing one hand gently on both of my shoulders.

"I want you to," she whispered, her eyes somehow uncertain and sure at the same time. She bit her lip, her fingers trembling where they traced my collarbones. I looked up at her then, confusion in my eyes as my brows pulled together. The strain hurt my forehead, but I paid it no attention.

"Are you—"

"Yes, Edward. I'm sure."

I should have known that I was in for it from the start.

I should have known, from the second I saw the ladder hanging from her open window to the moment I walked in to meet Bella's naked spine to the minute she threw her legs around my waist on her tiny, cramped bed.

I should have known that I'd be an asshole, and I should have known that Bella wasn't ready.

But I grinned in spite of myself as I navigated my twisting driveway, reliving the last hour at Bella Swan's house all over again. I knew there was no fucking way I was sleeping now, and I didn't mind. I knew it would mean Bella's dead, vacant eyes in the back of my mind for the remainder of the short amount of time I had to myself before I saw her again, but I hoped that maybe some new and very recently acquired memories would somehow overshadow that.

I hadn't managed to get out of my jeans, or get her out of those damned gray sweat pants, but I didn't expect that from her. It had been stupid to let my fingers wander as she jerked away from me, but in the end, there was no question that I was one hundred percent _happy_ that I had. Because now, she knew that I was ready for her. Emmett once told me that girls never know when to make the first move, so they wait around and eventually get boring because they don't know how they're supposed to come on to boys. So I touched her as lightly as possible as her eyes shifted frantically in their sockets.

Bella had opened a door for me to walk through, and while it wasn't completely satisfying, at least it wasn't closed anymore. Part of me was disappointed that I hadn't pinned her down and shredded her clothes off like I had wanted, but I couldn't complain about the fragment of progress I'd made in the past sixty minutes.

I would never forget the faces she made as she watched my hand slip under the waistband of her little gray pants, and I would try not remember how she'd almost immediately tensed up and shied away despite the confidence of her words as she invited me. It was infuriating. It was frustrating. It was Bella. So it was worth it.

I knew that I would wait for her, wait until she was sixty fucking years old and shriveled up and gross if she wanted me to. I wasn't in it so I could try to fuck Bella Swan, I was in it because I just wanted to be with her. And as maddening as her constant cock-blocking and my serious case of blue balls was, I wouldn't stop crawling through her window at night, even if was just to watch her study for her fucking Chemistry test.

**A/N: i know, i know. i suck. edward did not put his fingers anywhere on bella that would make his mother blush, just to make that clear. alice and jasper are _very _different than bella and edward, so it's just not the right time. sorry folks :) reviews are better than the arcade fire and edward's hands in your gray sweat pants.**


	15. The Truth

**i apologize for any mistakes in this chapter, i was dead on my feet when i was inspired to write it. **  
song: **need by hana pestle**

**BPOV**

"Can I tell you something without making you mad? You can't get mad at me, promise?" Alice pushed the needle on her speedometer up to eighty-five as we raced down the highway to Port Angeles.

"What is it, Alice?" Her tone concerned me.

"Well," she began, pausing for thought, "that sweater really isn't such a good color for you." I let out a _whoosh_ of air that her statement was only one of shallow criticism. She'd made it out to sound like she was telling me someone was dying or something.

"Gee, thanks," I laughed, tugging at the hem of my dark orange sweater. Alice glanced at me apologetically, pulling one leg beneath her without dropping in speed.

"I thought you'd be mad," she admitted. "But I've been thinking about it all day and I've decided to buy you a new sweater when we get there."

"You don't have to do that, Al." I was a little embarrassed, and I also hoped that Edward didn't have the same opinion of my choice of clothing as his twin sister, but decided to let it go. I already had too much to worry about.

"But Bella, I want to! Let me buy you a sweater." Her tone as pleading, her thin black eyebrows pulling upward into a pitiful expression of earnestness.

"Absolutely not," I said, unrelenting. "You can't just buy your friends new clothes when you don't like what they're already wearing. Besides, we're supposed to be going to a movie, remember?"

"Fine," she pouted, defeated. "But at least let's skip out on the movie. Just because _you_ don't like to shop like _normal_ girls doesn't mean _I _can't." I laughed at her as she glowered in her seat, the needle pushing further and further as her irritation grew.

Alice and I had grown considerably closer since that first fateful day at Forks High School. I remember not really knowing whether or not she liked me, second-guessing myself whenever I was around her. But now, I was wiser. Alice had not initially liked me, and I sort of served as more of a convenient friend when Rosalie was absent. Rosalie and Alice had eventually smoothed out their creases, but the distance was still between them. Their friendship would probably never be the same again, and rightfully so. Alice was a mess without Jasper, and Emmett wouldn't be the same without Rose. But I knew that it still bothered Alice, and I tried to be sensitive to that.

But Alice had gained a certain trust in me. She seemed to see something in me that was honest, albeit weird, and she chose to cart me around with her wherever she went. I didn't complain, because I knew it was unhealthy to only be friends with Edward, so I stayed with Alice as long as she would let me. She confided in me, and although I couldn't trust her wholly yet, her companionship was shallow and fun.

Since I started…whatever I was doing, with Edward, things changed. _I _changed. That night that he watched me from Emmett's vinyl beanbag, telling me how messed up I was, and the night that he told me he would make me 'New Bella,' I hadn't understood. Actually, I'd been downright offended. But now I got it. I had been altered, so completely, that I couldn't even recognize my old self. I was still there, my clumsiness and slight awkwardness not subsiding whatsoever, but my shoulders were more squared and I walked taller. I wasn't afraid. Awkward, yes. But scared, no.

As I stared at Alice's face as she sat beside me, analyzing her expression as her brow remained furrowed. She had been weird lately, weirder than was normal for her, and it concerned me. Normally, I would have let it go and ignored it, but Edward was acting the same way. I couldn't take it from Edward. I felt as if they shared a private pain that I couldn't understand, and it bothered me to no end. It was like the first night I'd slept over, and the secret conversation the Cullens carried on at the dinner table. I'd asked Alice to come with me to Port Angeles to talk things out. I was hesitant to ask Edward about it. Although the two of us had few secrets, part of me still felt like I was trying to get to know him. We had known each other for just under two months now, and had spent almost all of our time together, but I was still edgy. Alice was my best bet.

In addition, my relationship with Edward was…settling on a new level, to say the least. I couldn't forget the embarrassment I'd felt as his cool fingers brushed my naked spine those few weeks before. I hadn't heard him crawl through the window over the heavy rain that fell, and it was baffling to me that at the precise minute I pulled my shirt over my head, he just _happened_ to materialize in my bedroom. I was a ridiculously modest person by nature, and entirely humiliated. But at the same time, it opened our night together on a new note, a strange one I'd never heard before. It opened a closed door in both of our minds as I hurriedly pulled a clean shirt over my head, and uncovered a buried notion that had been hidden away until his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of my sweat pants. It was uncomfortable, and terrifying, but it had sparked an interest.

I couldn't move on with Edward until I knew what was going on. Much to my dismay, Alice had given me the literal blow-by-blow of her experience at Jasper's house two weekends before, and her happiness had lasted for a while after she and Jasper had…progressed. But it was fading, and I worried about her. What could be troubling her so badly to the extent that sex, Alice's favorite thing other than designer stilettos, couldn't even take a frown off her face for more than five minutes? The thought made me blush, but it was true. I was absolutely petrified at the thought of knowing Edward like Alice knew Jasper, but I wanted it more than anything else. And I knew, I knew with everything I had, that I couldn't take my guard down with Edward if he was keeping secrets from me. Maybe it was none of my business, maybe he was waiting for the right time to talk about it with me, but I was impatient. And Alice was a blabbermouth.

"Alice?" I asked suddenly, raising my voice to be heard over the purr of the engine. She was still staring blank-facedly out of the windshield, trails of rain running across the glass.

"Yes?" she answered, her eyes still on the road.

"I'm…I'm going to try and be blunt here, okay? I'm not very good at it, but I need to know." I swallowed back the lump in my throat, wringing my fingers as I tried my hand at assertiveness. "Is there something wrong? Like, with you?"

"You mean, is there something wrong with _Edward_? If you want me to dish on my brother, all you have to do is ask." She cracked a smile as she pulled onto the onramp.

"Well, actually, I'm sort of asking about both of you. Something's up. I can tell." I bit my lip as Alice hesitated, and wondered if I should have even said anything.

"It's trivial. Well…yeah. It's not a big deal. Nothing to be worried over, Bella."

"That's a lie," I blurted, blushing at my outburst. "I mean, if it's personal, you don't have to tell me anything. You don't owe me an explanation, I just know that this is no petty mood swing. I can see it in your face. I can see it in _his_ face."

She met my eyes then as we stalled at a red light, her expression much different than the vacant stare she'd kept as she gazed out the windshield. "You are more observant than I give you credit for. Edward thinks he has you fooled."

Her words brought a gasp through my teeth as I read into every hidden meaning her words could have possibly held. Edward _did_ have a secret, and my suspicions were confirmed. But the possibilities of exactly what it could be were staggering. I felt my eyes swim with tears.

"Is he…did he…is he cheating on me?" I choked. "Just tell me, I can take it." It would make sense. I already knew Edward was too good for me, and that I didn't deserve him. I couldn't really wrap my head around it in the first place. Not that I felt myself to be too ugly for him, just that _he_ was too _beautiful. _The thought that there could be someone else was both suffocating and completely sensible at the same time.

"No, Bella. Don't be ridiculous," she answered. I let out a huge gust of air, and while my heart was not completely settled, I was somewhat pacified.

"What, then?" I pushed. I had been waiting so long to find out what was going wrong. Even though Alice was not skipping around my questions, I felt as though she was. Perhaps I'd left the time bomb ticking too long, and the built up impatience was clouding my vision. Alice shook her head.

"I'm not sure that this is my story to tell. I promised…" She broke off, and her unfinished sentence stirred up my unease.

"Obviously, this affects both of you, Alice. Not just Edward, but you, too. And consequently, it affects me." I knew I sounded selfish, but it was true. Edward still kissed me with enthusiasm and never failed to crawl through my window when I called for him, but the hidden pain that he stashed away behind his eyes still made my insides ache. I ached because I knew that he was hurting, and also because I knew that he wasn't telling me what was hurting him.

"I know," she breathed, sliding into a parking spot. She turned the key, the car silencing as the rain pounded against the roof. She unhooked her seatbelt, but stayed slouched against the leather. "I know. You're right. Maybe I should just tell you. This affects more than just my family, now."

"So it has to do with your entire family?" I prompted. I hadn't seen Emmett enough lately to notice a considerable difference from him, and I wished that I had been more observational. Alice laughed bitterly as she turned to face me, her back against the window.

"Yeah. Pretty much." Something in her face silenced me as she sat there, pondering something. The deep crease in her forehead worried me. The Alice I had met had been much happier than _this_ Alice, and I wanted to know more than anything in the entire world what had changed.

Several moments passed before she spoke.

"Bella, what I am about to tell you…well, it's heavy. If I tell you, you have to keep your mouth shut until Edward decides that it's the right time to tell you, okay?"

"I promise," I nodded. Something tugged at me in my chest, and I wondered if I really wanted to know, after all. It was something I had to pretend like I didn't know, something I had to lie to Edward about. This wasn't something insignificant, I knew that much. Should I just wait for him to tell me himself? As I considered simply being patient, I knew that I would be unable. The truth was so close to me as Alice sat there, preparing her explanation, and I couldn't back away from it. It was like water in a desert—I felt as if I needed it to survive. My _relationship_ needed it.

"Alright, then, here goes," she breathed, drawing in a deep breath before continuing. "It was Monday the week before school started…"

I forgot how to breathe. Or rather, I was breathing without lungs. The sky turned from gray to black as the light in my head turned off, someone taking the outlet away so I couldn't even plug in a lamp.

Alice's face had risen and fell, her cheeks flaming with the color I so often saw on my own face as I looked into a mirror. Her eyes had brimmed over more times than I could count, her mouth turning downward into a scowl as she used her hands to describe every moment since she _knew_.

She told me of her bedroom and Esme's soup and her thirteenth birthday. She told me of Career Day and her mother and what Edward's face had looked like. She told me of the wood saw and the study door, and she told me of the undeserved confidence that Emmett had in her. She told me of Rose and Emmett, she told me of Jasper and the hold he had on her. She told me of her uncertainty, of her constant fear, and how she didn't want to get dressed in the mornings. She spoke about her childhood and how her brothers had left her out, how she sat alone in her bedroom without anyone else to speak to. She told me about Edward's puppy and his birthday card, the Gucci bag and what her father's face had looked like when she pretended that she hated it. She told me of Esme crying when she thought no one could hear her, how Emmett didn't want her and Jasper together. She told me of Carlisle, how his skin grew thinner and more sallow, how he was dying before her very eyes. She told me how she could hear Edward crying to him, of Edward's unreserved sobs as he choked out the contents of his soul, how Carlisle climbed the stairs to his bedroom almost every night without fail. She told me about her reconciliation with Rose and the inkling of bitterness that she still held for her oldest friend. She told me how she tried, so desperately, to keep it together at school, how she hated the things that she used to love. And lastly, she told me about the big, white house. Edward's sanctuary. The place that he had let me in, the place that he showed me to make up for the truth that he kept. The failure and self-loathing that had consumed his features the day that he had tried to show his only refuge to his father, and had it all slammed back in his face.

The hours had slipped by, night creeping over us as I sat in the warmth of the Volvo, Alice's voice monotonous in contrast to its usual sing-songy tinkling. My brain was heavy, and my chest ached as silent tears slipped from my eyes and over my unmoving lips.

We didn't speak during the drive home. The stillness wasn't uncomfortable, it was understood. We hadn't once gotten out of the car that evening. I wasn't sure how Alice had managed to shove the key into the ignition and motivate herself to drive home, but she somehow was able. I didn't ask to spend the night with her, nor did she invite me, but I knew that I would. I texted Charlie silently as we sped down the highway to Forks, and told him where I'd be. Alice needed me, and I knew.

I knew more than Rosalie. I knew just under, if not exactly what Jasper knew. I knew. And Edward had no idea. Panic shook me to life, striking a match in the darkness of my mind. Terror hummed through my veins as we drove swiftly through the trees to the Cullen house. I knew I couldn't tell him. I wished I had never asked, that I had just been good, quiet Bella, like I usually was, and that I'd kept my mouth shut. Alice could have bossed me around like normal, forcing me to try things on that I would never wear. She would have eventually manipulated me into letting her buy me a sweater, and we could have eaten dinner at a little restaurant before she finally dropped me off. She would have driven home alone, locking herself in her bedroom as she so often did, listening to Carlisle's sighs through the wall.

But here I was. I was next to her, gathering the small amount of strength I had as we silently climbed the steps to her front porch.

I knew Edward would be inside. I wondered where he would be. The image of his young face, crumpled in pain as Carlisle ridiculed his ideas, was crippling. He was so close, somewhere within the house that stood before me, and I wanted him to be. But it was different now. I wanted him, but I knew I couldn't bear to see his face. I wouldn't be able to avoid him. He would wonder what was wrong, and eventually, he would know that Alice told. Alice would be in trouble, and Edward would run from me. The mere thought ate a hole in my chest, and I crossed my arms across my torso to hold myself together.

Alice opened the front door.

The light from the foyer spilled across my face. I blinked as I was suddenly blinded, my eyes adjusting to the brightness. Alice made a beeline for the stairs, guilt exuding from her very being like a dog with his tail between his legs. I hung up my coat on the coat rack, following close behind her. My heart was pounding in my chest as I nearly sprinted up the steps, my chest pulling me towards Edward but knowing that I couldn't see him. I halfway expected for the shame I felt for hiding from him to subside as soon as Alice shut her heavy bedroom door, but I wasn't surprised when it continued to pulse in my ears.

"Where's Edward?" I choked as Alice slung her purse across her desk chair. It was odd, breaking the quietness like that. We still hadn't spoken since we'd left Port Angeles. She perched on the edge of her bed, tossing her cell phone from hand to hand. Hey eyes jolted and jerked, her body nearly humming with dread.

"Probably upstairs. Carlisle and Esme are probably asleep already, and Emmett's 'spending the night with Jasper,'" she answered, making air quotes as she told me Emmett's made-up whereabouts.

"Maybe he won't know I'm here. Maybe he'll think you brought me home," I said frantically, pacing back and forth across the dark wood of her floor.

"He's going to find out, Bella," she countered, speaking as if I were mentally ill. "You can't hide from him in his own house. Just…fake it. Pretend that you know absolutely nothing."

"I can't do that, Alice," I spat, stopping to stare at her dead-on. "I can't act like I don't know what's going on. This is the very biggest part of his life. The most important part. I can't pretend like I don't know what's happening to ease your conscience."

"_My_ conscience?" she gasped, flabbergasted. "You practically _begged_ for me to tell you. I did you a _favor_. Don't blame this on me, Bella." She crossed her arms across her chest as she stared at her feet, her lip jutting out in a childish pout.

"I'm not," I argued weakly. But I was. I knew that I was intruding in on Edward's mind, the part that he kept hidden from me, and that it wasn't my place. I knew that I'd made a mistake, and I chose to blame it on the only person I knew how to.

It had killed me to hear Alice cry to me as we sat in the parking lot. I felt as if my heart would disconnect, as if it would stutter to a stop to match my dead lungs. As she told me Edward's darkest moments, the moments that had made him who he was, I felt _intrusive_. Not relieved, or happy, or included as I'd hoped. I pictured his smile, his lips parting to reveal his perfect, white teeth, as he beamed at me with complete adoration. I pictured his grin, his happiness when we were together, as if he were right in front of me. And as Alice continued, his smile in my head faltered, his face growing smaller, until he was suddenly a tiny boy with a tear-streaked face. His smile drooped into a devastating grimace, all of his happiness fading to dust. I knew, from what his sister told me, that I had sparked a new life into Edward, just as he'd done for me. And I had just ruined it, only a few hours ago, with a simple question.

Alice had it so easy, apart from having to deal with her own pain just like Edward was. She was able to tell Jasper, because it was her business to tell. She was able to release it. But I had nothing to do with this. I couldn't run to Edward and cry for him. I couldn't smooth his hair as I had that first Saturday night or tell him that I would be there for him through anything. I would be there, always, but I couldn't tell him that. My heart screamed for him, my insides jumping with throbbing fervor as I considered his crushed spirit. Edward's father was dying. Carlisle was going to die. And everything in Edward's life was crashing and burning…except for me. Alice had told me how I was the only thing that was right in Edward's life. It was melodramatic, and it sounded like song lyrics, but I knew as soon as she said it, after she'd told me everything, that it was possibly true.

As I shook where I stood, the emotions and the knowledge of the past few hours pounding down on my weak shoulders, the thought that had been swimming in my brain became consolidated. I'd considered loving Edward before, but it simply sounded stupid when I whispered it to myself. _I love Edward_. It was thoughtless and irrational. Before now. Now, the tables were turned. Edward didn't know they were, but I did. Things were different. Death was looming over all of us, and even though I wasn't a Cullen, I was affected. We all were. Edward, Emmett, Alice, Jasper, Rose, and me. It was a devastating branch effect. We were all in this together, whether Edward was aware of it or not. And loving him made perfect sense. Loving him was rational. Every kiss he gave, every touch was deepened in my mind now. It held a heavier significance now that I knew what was going on in his head when he was giving those kisses. When he held me in the light of my bedroom, he knew his father was dying. He knew he would have to return to a hollow, loveless home after he crawled down from my window. Every brush of my knuckle, every kiss on my forehead, was completely and one hundred percent significant. He came to me when his room was lonely. My bedroom, up the rope ladder and through the window, was Edward's other big, white house.

So now, instead of laughing at myself as I considered loving Edward, I embraced it. I scolded myself for not realizing it sooner.

Alice sat on her bed without making a sound as I sat in the center of her floor, going over everything I'd learned in my mind. Edward was hurting. And since he was hurting, I was destroyed. I wasn't sure why I felt such extremes. I wasn't one to be a drama queen, but for some reason, I felt the dire need to protect him. I knew, and recognized, the new love in my heart, but it was foreign to me. I pictured Edward at his white house in the woods, his chin quivering as Carlisle shot down every dream he'd had about bringing his father to his favorite place. I could see him in the fifth grade as Esme described paint colors and upholstery fabric to his class as the other boys laughed at him, his face red with shame. I could see Carlisle dismissively patting him on his head, shrugging out the door with only a _well, Edward, maybe next year_. The idea brought tears to my eyes. I sniffed loudly as I imagined Edward's childhood puppy, fluffy and golden brown. That had been taken away from him, too.

"Why are you crying?"

Alice's soft voice shook me away from my reverie. Her chin rested on her knees, her green eyes swimming with emotion. I shook my head, sucking my bottom lip in between my teeth. She smiled sadly as she waited for me to answer.

"I have to tell him, Alice."

"I know. You're right." Her voice shook, her words coming out in such low whispers that I almost couldn't hear her. "Can you at least wait until tomorrow?"

"I don't think I can." I couldn't. Because he was upstairs, and I couldn't stay in Alice's room, listening to his footsteps, with the weight of my guilt on my chest. It would kill him to know that I knew. His last shot at normality would be ruined. I was the only person in his world that he was close to who didn't know. And rather than feeling offended or left out, I understood. People don't treat one another the same way when they know each other's circumstances.

In life, people are rude. They say and do whatever they want because they don't see one another as real human beings. But once you realize someone's situation, once you take the time to look at someone's life and recognize their hardships, your feelings change for them. When I was six, a girl in my first grade class named Olivia Johnson would throw my sandwich on the ground every day at lunch and stomp on it. She would kick and stamp and butcher my ham sandwich unremittingly as I watched, my muscles locked helplessly. Day after day, I would lie to my mother about my lunch, telling her how delicious my sandwich had been, despite the fact that it was merely mush beneath Olivia Johnson's sneakers. But one day, for the first time that year, she didn't come to my lunch table. She stayed in her chair, her head down, as I ate my sandwich in confusion. I later found out that Olivia was told that my mother and father had recently divorced, and she felt bad for me. I was no longer a prop, a pawn that she could knock over for fun. I was a person. It was like kicking a dying animal--it was unethical.

And this was how Edward would look at the situation. Even if I didn't change my treatment towards him, even if my level of affection remained constant, he would warp my actions in his mind. He would see me as going above and beyond, more attentive because I knew his father was dying. He would see it as special treatment. I would alienate him. He would be embarrassed, and hurt. He would run.

And I couldn't handle that. I needed him. I was different, but still, very much the same. I needed Edward like he was a lifeline. Over the past two months, he had become a staple in my life, a fixture, something I relied on. From that very first day, even before I knew I loved him, even before he even _liked _me, I had needed him. My heart still fluttered when he smiled at me, my cheeks warming when he took my hand. I couldn't live without it. It was foolish, and juvenile, but _I could not live without Edward Cullen_.

He lied to me, day after day, to protect me. He kept his ghosts inside of him. It may have helped him to release them, to tell me everything. It would have given him a level of peace, having me know. But he didn't, because he cared about me. Alice had told me that he didn't want me to know about Carlisle because he didn't want any of his sadness placed on me. He wanted me to be happy. So he bit his tongue, he swallowed everything back, to keep me oblivious. Not because he didn't think I could handle it, but because he was strong enough to do it all on his own.

So I knew that he was more comfortable keeping secrets from me. That was obvious, otherwise, he would have told already. I knew he would be happier if he was oblivious. But our relationship would undoubtedly fail if the weight of my guilt stood in our way. I needed to tell him, to be less selfish.

"Be careful with him," Alice said without inflection. "He doesn't even have a chance at happiness if he thinks something's wrong between the two of you."

"I'm sorry, Alice. I'm sorry I made you tell me. I promise, I'll make it right. I'll make sure he's not mad at you. I'm sorry."

"Don't say that," she choked. "It's not your fault. You didn't _make _me tell you anything. Just…be careful with him," she repeated. Concern was splashed across her face as I turned to reach for the doorknob.

The climb to the third floor was excruciating, like my skin was burning, or like I was having open-heart surgery with no anesthetic. Every step I took, the same words echoed in my head.

_Be careful with him, be careful with him, be careful with him_.

Edward's face throbbed in my mind. The shift between his seventeen-year-old crooked grin to his eight-year-old agony was devastating as it played over and over again, the sounds of Alice's warning pulsing like music to a film. But somehow, I made it to the top landing, the light coming from beneath his bedroom door pulling me towards him.

I had never been inside of Edward's bedroom. After over seven weeks together and his countless trips to my house late at night, it was still a mystery. His room to me was a lesser version of his feelings about Carlisle's study. It was foreign and frightening, but I wanted in more than anything. That first night at the Cullens, I had tried to follow him. But he'd pushed me away, insisting that Carlisle would be coming up, and that I couldn't be there. I spent the night with Alice often, but I usually met with Edward in the hallway after Alice went to sleep or in Emmett's bedroom, back in the red vinyl beanbags. It was ironic that as I hesitated in the short hallway leading to his door, I was going to tell him that I had filched the truth right out of his own sister's mouth. That I had cheated, that I had stolen his truth from him because I was too impatient to wait for him to tell me on his own. It was bittersweet, that I was finally going to experience the room I'd wondered about so often, and that I would probably never get to see it again after that moment.

I needed Edward. I needed him. But I couldn't keep the truth. I knew I was a terrible liar; he was always able to call out my bluffs and white lies while we were just hanging out together. He'd laugh and kiss my knuckles as I blushed, telling me what an awful liar I was. But this was sickeningly different. It was life-or-death, and I knew that even though I couldn't be without him, I had to tell him. I had known him for such a short while, and the need was still thick and intense, binding me to wherever he was. If I let this build, let the guilt and the lying continue, I would be in too far. I wouldn't be able to tell him. Our relationship would be built on a lie, right from the beginning. Our foundation was barely finished, and I would ruin it from the start. When our house built of rotten wood eventually collapsed, he would resent me more than ever. He would hate me more than if I just told him. It might kill me, but I needed it. _He_ needed it.

My hand shook as I grasped the doorknob, the metal rattling in my palm as I gave a swift knock with my other knuckle. I pushed the door open before he could respond, my eyes wide and unblinking as I prepared myself for what I might find.

It was a bedroom. Palatial, like the rest of his house, but comparatively simple. His carpet was a lush gold, with simple white walls connecting to a ceiling that was lower than the others on the second and first floor. The four posts of his dark, wooden bed stretched tall, a black leather couch directly across from it against an enormous, glass window. He had shelves of books and CDs, a giant Bose speaker resting on a glass desk by the doorway I stood in. The window by his bed was open, smoke rising from an ashtray on the windowsill. His desk light was on, throwing soft light across the room, his sheets messy and knotted. His room was plain, yet interesting as I walked slowly into it, leaving the door open behind me. The only thing missing was…well, Edward.

I looked around for him, my nerves building as I stood alone. I felt like a thief stealing from a home in broad daylight, despite the darkness that encompassed the Cullen house as the moon struggled to shine through blanketing of trees. The blowing curtains that framed the open window made me jump, a small yelp escaping my throat as I clasped a hand over my mouth.

"Bella?"

His low voice cracked my defenses and caused my dead heart to drop into my stomach. I spun around to meet his brilliant green eyes, my hand still clasped over my mouth.

"Edward?" I asked stupidly, my voice high-pitched and cracking.

He chuckled nervously. "Um, yeah? This is my room, after all…"

"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't, um, I shouldn't be here…"

"Stop fucking stuttering, Bella," he grinned. "We're over that, remember?" He passed me to sprawl across his messy bed, folding his arms behind his head as he looked at me. "Besides, I don't mind if you come up here. I just had no idea that you were even _here_ in the first place. At the house, I mean."

"Yeah," I said quietly. "Alice and I drove to Port Angeles after school today. She told me I could just stay here tonight." I looked down at my feet, my head drowning in the thought of what I had to say to him.

"Makes sense," he shrugged. "So what did you guys do there?"

God, he was making this hard. I couldn't even look at his face as his waited for me to respond. This was terrible. I wanted to sprint away and down the stairs. I wanted to ask Alice to drive me home and to never come out of my room again. I would take away the ladder so Edward couldn't come through the window, and I would hide the truth forever. I felt like I had the first day of school when Jessica Stanley tried to nudge me out of my chair. Insecure, incapable, a failure.

"What's going on, Bell?" Edward asked softly when I didn't answer. Finally, I glanced up to meet the rolling grass of his eyes. And just then, as he sat up to stare at me with worry crumpling his features, I made a hasty and poorly thought-out decision.

I wouldn't tell him. I had climbed the stairs, determined that he had to know that I knew. I was certain that it was necessary. All arrows pointed to telling him the honest truth. It made sense, and it was right. But there was absolutely no way that I could tell him now. Maybe, in fair time, I would be able. But I would have to build our house with rotting wood for now, doubling up on planks as I nailed the foundation into place, hoping that the roof wouldn't cave in. I would deal with it as it came, but I was beyond a shadow of a doubt certain that I would shoulder the remorse for lying to him, even if it hurt him later. Even if it was unforgivable.

He wouldn't be able to take it. His heart was already broken, destroyed, and it was only because of me that it continued to beat. I hadn't known that before Alice told me, but now I knew it, as sure as the sky and the ground beneath my feet. I could handle the pain, even though I told myself I couldn't, because my heart was in much, much better shape than his. I could save him, if only just this once. Because he saved me every day of my life, and I owed it to him. Even if it shattered him later, his soul would be in better condition.

So, since I couldn't be honest, I would tell him the next best thing that my heart had to offer.

"I need to talk to you, Edward," I told him, my voice thickening beneath my sudden realization. Although my sacrifice was feeble in comparison to those that Edward made in order to keep me happy, I had to try.

He reached out his arms, inviting me. I walked quickly to close the space between us, collapsing into his hold and drinking in the sweet smell of his t-shirt as he wrapped his arms around me tightly. He buried his face in my hair, rubbing his cheek against the top of my head as I breathed deeply against his chest.

We lay there in silence, the smell of cigarettes and Edward infiltrating my thoughts as I fought against the impending doom that I felt in my chest. The silence made me edgy. I knew what I would have to do. I wouldn't tell him that I knew his secret now, but it would happen soon enough. All I knew was that I loved him, and although my recent grief had brought it on, it was still infinite. It was true. We were both keeping truths from one another, but it didn't matter anymore.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Edward asked, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on the edge of my jaw. Now he _really _wasn't making this easy. Sure, I'd grown accustomed to his penetrating green eyes and I was already used to the sharp architecture of his face. But, despite the recent events, my breath still hitched in my throat and my eyes still rolled back into my head a little every time he touched me.

"Edward," I whispered shakily, "this is serious." He laughed at me, moving his lips to my neck. It was torture. He continued to skim over my skin with his teeth so lightly that I almost couldn't feel him. "Edward," I said, more firmly this time. Finally, he glanced up at me.

"What is it?" His face was concerned, a crease forming between his eyes. He reached up to cradle my face in his calloused palms.

_I know. I know everything. I'm here for you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I made Alice tell me, instead of waiting for you. I'm sorry that I've cheated you out of your own life. I love you, but not enough to be patient. _

I knew the words, but I couldn't say them.

I hoped, with every fiber of my being, that he wouldn't push me away. But I was absolutely sure that I loved him, even though we'd only been seeing each other for not even two months. When I looked past his obvious beauty, I still loved everything else about him without his skin and bones and ligaments. It sounded stupid, but it was true. I loved Edward Cullen's soul. I loved his heart, and his spectacular mind, and that way that he could mouth the words to my favorite chick flicks even though he claimed to loathe them. I loved the ideas he came up with, and that way that he held me close when I most needed him to. So there was no logical reason that Edward would push me away. I could see it all in my head as he held my cheeks between his hands gingerly. I would be strong for him no matter what happened. He wouldn't love me in return, because it was too soon, but eventually, he would. I would love him under his circumstance, prematurely but rationally, and he would soon follow after. This thought alone motivated me to answer his question.

"Edward," I repeated softly, hesitating slightly, "I…I love you." As soon as I spoke the words, I knew how absolute they were. I had realized my feelings not even an hour earlier, but I felt as if we suddenly had only so much time left to us. His eyes swam with a certain brilliancy that I couldn't name, a trail of heat following his thumb as he stroked it across my cheekbone.

"Jesus, Bell," he chuckled quietly, licking his bottom lip. "I love you too. As irrational and impulsive as it sounds, it's fucking true." _Curve ball_. His words were certain, as if it was a relief to him to suddenly have them off his chest. Had Edward been in love with me all along? My heart jumped foolishly as I fought back tears. Normally, I would have been elated. Awkward, tense Bella would have stammered out a poorly articulated expression of happiness, but instead, I felt uneasy. This was so not _Edward_. It was gushy and sappy and stupid and I was willing to bet that if I was some other girl and not myself, that Edward would not have to profess his love to me like he was Fabio on a romance novel cover.

"You don't have to say it if you don't mean it," I said, looking to the floor. I didn't deserve his love in return, and I knew it. He nudged my chin up with the heel of his palm, forcing me to meet his eyes.

"I mean it, Bella. With everything I have."

There was no way I was telling him that I knew. No fucking way, because he was too good for that. I wasn't going to tear his heart open just to prove to myself that he loved me with the same intensity that I felt for him, and then rip the rug from underneath him. _I love you, Edward, because I know your dad is dying. _Hell, no. It was wrong, and it was cruel, even though it was untrue. I would love the kid even if Carlisle were in perfect condition, no matter what, one hundred percent. I might love him without realizing it, but maybe it was a good thing that I knew now. Because Edward Cullen was in love with me, even though I was terrible. I would love him even if his life was sunny and perfect, even if I _did _laugh to myself when I spoke it into existence. And I hoped that when the time came for me to tell him that I knew, he would understand that.

Before I could speak, Edward's lips were on mine, my tears falling noiselessly over my parted lips. He must have assumed that they were happy tears, because he wiped them away thoughtlessly and continued to kiss me as if I were completely blameless.

**dude, i'm like..panicking right now. bella is in a fucking pickle. and even though i eventually know what happens, it still scares the shit out of me. haha. the last part of this chapter was written at the same time as the first chapter, so i hope it fit well. bella flip flops a lot in this chapter, and although to some of you it might be a little annoying, it was logical. she is really confused, here. she doesn't know what to do, and she is terrified. she still has basically no friends, and she could easily lose the only one she loves. to clarify any questions, bella does love edward, but she was too afraid and nervous and just plain awkward to recognize it. but knowing the truth put things into perspective for her. she was shocked when she learned that edward loved her too, because she didn't expect it. she didn't really consider what his reaction would be, because she was so worried about everything going on in her head. it's going to get tough, because now that her feelings are returned, she has so much to worry about. she could handle possibly hurting him before, but now that she knows he loves her too...yikes.  
let me know what you think! reviews make me happy, and happiness brings more chapters. you guys fucking rock.**


	16. Conscience

**song**: my lady's house by iron and wine

**EPOV**

Bella had just told me that she was in love with me. It was simply said, not a big show or anything, but something just fucking clicked. It _worked_.

Carlisle had shaved his head. I knew that he did it to placate the family, and most likely because he knew that Esme couldn't handle seeing her husband's hair fall out little by little because of the chemo. He figured that if it was deliberate and self-inflicted, it would make us all feel better. It made me feel…numb. The first morning that I saw Carlisle's clean-shaven head in the kitchen, something inside of me died. It was real, and it was finally happening. Carlisle was starting chemo. He had taken a leave of absence from the hospital, but he was still trying to escape the house as often as possible. I had no idea what he was doing, but at least he wasn't in that goddamn study. He came up to my room every night for around an hour to talk with me like he thought I wanted, but I still felt that intangible distance between the two of us. He talked about everything but the cancer that was killing him, and I never tried to ask about it. I got all of my information from Emmett or Alice, and kept my parents out of it as much as possible. Emmett was still pissed at Alice and at Jasper for dating her, but the anger was easing, as we knew that we needed each other to lean on. I hated feeling so reliable on people. I always had to depend on myself, my entire life, and I hated feeling like such a pussy. But I was, and I had to get the fuck over it.

Carlisle skipped our little meeting the night that he cut his hair off, and I guess that I was glad that he did. But after that, he continued to climb the steps night after night.

The night before Carlisle was to start chemo, I told him about Bella. I told him everything—from the way that her hair smelled like strawberries to the way that she acted socially handicapped around people she didn't know. I even told him about her fucking chinchilla shit rain sticks, just because I knew that it would make him laugh. And it did. Carlisle's laughter had been strong, resonating off the walls and igniting the dead place in the pit of my stomach. But eventually, his face settled back into his sullen cheekbones, and part of me died again. It was weird, sort of like a limbo between breaking down into tears and wanting to scream as loud as I possibly could. I couldn't help but feel proud of him. He was going to start fighting the fucking lymphoma in less than twenty-four hours after he left my bedroom, and he was going to have to do it alone. Sure, we could all stand there and be cheerleaders for him, but none of us could make the pain go away. None of us could keep his golden hair on his head, and none of us could make the cancer stop destroying his body.

"Be good to her. Bella, I mean," he'd said as he rose from the foot of my bed to leave that night. I nodded, my stomach twisting in knots as I fought the weakness that was creeping behind my eyeballs.

"I will be, Carlisle," I promised.

We never touched each other. It was sort of an unspoken rule. So we didn't hug or anything like that, but the wrinkles of his face were screaming with understood love as he slipped out the door. I eventually fell asleep on my tear-soaked pillow, promising Carlisle and God and anyone else who would listen that I would never, _ever_ fucking hurt Bella Swan.

*

And now she was telling me that she loved me. I didn't know if she was saying it because she thought that it was what I wanted to hear, but my heart began pumping furiously as I fought the urge to fucking dance. It was everything that I needed to hear. I had decided that night, as Carlisle and his uneven, shaved head exited my bedroom, that I would love Bella forever. We'd only been together for a ridiculously short period of time, but it was so much more than a relationship for us. I was under rough circumstances. Now that Carlisle was wasting away, everything was violently shoved into perspective for me. I couldn't keep dicking around. I knew that I needed to grow the fuck up, and I knew that Bella was flawless. Sure, she was a trip. She was clumsy and scatterbrained and spacey and probably insane, but she was smart and funny and beautiful and strong. She was fucking amazing, and hell yeah, I loved her back. I would be crazy not to.

"Jesus, Bell," I'd laughed at her, chewing on my bottom lip nervously. Her habits were obviously rubbing off on me. With everything that I had, every feeling and doubt and emotion that I felt inside of myself, I decided to tell her. "I love you, too." The world shook around me as everything settled perfectly where it belonged. She smiled a huge, toothy grin as her cheeks flamed brilliantly. But I saw hidden emotion in her eyes, so far from the hollow canyons that were imprinted in my mind. Her smile was triumphant, but her eyes were…sad? No. That couldn't be. I knew that I was just confusing things, so incredulous that Bella could possibly love me back, that I was going into shock.

"As irrational and impulsive as it sounds," I continued, shrugging off my insecurities, "it's fucking true." Her eyes watered up, and my insides felt like I was going to explode. Then suddenly, her smile fell and her jaw tensed.

"You don't have to say it if you don't mean it," she said softly, her eyes dropping to her bare toes. Her face, which was between my hands, sulked downward. I shoved her chin up with my thumb.

"I mean it, Bella," I swore. "With everything that I have."

And then I fucking kissed her. Because it seemed to be the right thing to do, and also because I didn't want anything more in that moment. Tears fell rapidly from her eyes then, and I swiped them away with my fingers before they could get inside of my mouth, because that was kind of weird. She moaned underneath my lips, still fucking crying and digging her fingernails into my back.

And that's when it all started.

*

"Did you know," Bella slurred, "that I have never, ever, ever drank Vodka before in my life?" She giggled loudly, and I pushed my pointer fingers against her lips.

"Shhh," I cautioned, hiccupping slightly. "Keep quiet, or Emmett will come up here." I chuckled, pouring another shot and pushing it towards Bella. Her cheeks were bright pink and her eyes were glassy as she tossed the alcohol down her throat. I wondered briefly why tonight, of all nights, Carlisle had decided to stay in his study rather than resuming his nightly routine hanging out in my room. He hadn't come up after dinner, and I'd heard his bedroom door close hours earlier. My attention was diverted as Bella suddenly winced, screwing her face up and sticking out her tongue. I looked to her attentively, despite the alcohol that was rolling uncomfortably in my stomach, and she twisted her grimace into a wasted smile, pointing to the shot glass she'd just emptied.

"Keep Emmett away," she giggled, her tongue still hanging ridiculously from her mouth. "This stuff is aaaaallll mine!" I grinned back at her as I threw back my own shot. It burned as it traveled down my throat before finally settling into my empty stomach. _Bad idea_. Bella crossed her legs beneath her Indian-style, bouncing up and down and clapping her palms against her knees. "Let's do something!" she exclaimed, reaching for the bottle. I snatched it away from her. Drunk or sober, I could still tell that Bella was the last person on earth who needed more booze in her tiny frame at that precise moment.

I couldn't even remember whose idea it had been to start drinking. Maybe it was Bella in the midst of her new euphoric state of mind, or maybe it was me just being a horny teenager and knowing that Bella wouldn't ease up for once without the help of a little liquid courage. A small part of my mind recalled Bella suggesting it, her face drooping with imagined sadness, but I was happy that she'd brightened up after a few shots. It didn't matter who started it. Because in that moment, I felt nice and warm, and Bella looked beautiful. She had a light sheen of sweat on her brow, and her eyes were slightly crossed, but she was still Bella and we were in love with each other. I thanked Emmett silently for deciding to use the freezer of my mini fridge as his main location of alcohol storage.

"Well, what do you want to do?" I asked Bella lazily, leaning my head against the side of my bed. I was so sleepy, and Bella was so hyper. It made my brain rattle. She cocked an eyebrow mischievously.

"I dunno," she sang. "What do _you_ wanna do?" She was doing the little bouncing thing again. I wished she'd stop. It made me nauseous.

"Bella, just pick something," I answered harshly, closing my eyes. I was too drunk to put up with the game-playing shit. When I finally forced open my heavy lids, she was sitting there, fucking crying. Like, honest-to-goodness, legit crying, like she had been before. Cry, cry, cry. That was all she fucking did.

"Aw, come on, Bella. Why are you crying?" I asked, feeling bad that I made the girl I was supposed to be in love with so upset, even though I had no idea why.

"Because you yelled at me. And because I fucking suck. I suck so fucking _hard_." I felt my eyebrows raise. Bella _never_ cussed. But I was also confused about something else, and I tried not to let my perverted teenaged boy mind misconstrue her pained words into something disgusting.

"Why do you suck?" I leaned forward and placed my hand tenderly on her knee. She stared at it for a moment before putting her warm little hand on top of mine.

"Because I always hurt people that I love," she whined, looking so pitiful that I wanted to scoop her up and hold her. So I did.

"Don't be silly," I whispered into her hair as she cried against my shoulder. "You love me, and so far, I'm just fine." I thought she'd laugh, but she just kept crying. I hated crying. "Look at me," I said, turning her head carefully to face me. Her eyes were still glassy, partially from the tears and partially because of the fact that she was completely plastered.

"I'm so sorry, Edward," she cried, her bottom lip quivering.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," I soothed, sweeping her hair from her face. I wasn't expecting what happened next. Bella threw her arms around my neck uncharacteristically, shoving her tongue between my lips and sobbing into my mouth. It was kind of a funny feeling to have my girlfriend cry while physically assaulting me, but I didn't pull back. I was always the one who had to instigate things, what with Bella being shy when it came to absolutely everything. But then, she was kissing me with so much fervor and passion that I did what any other asshole would do. I fucking kissed her back.

*

"Are we going to do this?" I asked as Bella shivered below me.

"I mean, I guess," she muttered, taking her lip into her mouth. I was so thankful that I'd left my desk lamp on, because I could see _everything. _And prim, reserved fucking chinchilla shit rain stick Bella was fucking _stellar_.

"Okay, as long as you're sure," I said. I wanted to tackle her, even if she wasn't sure, but I had to fight it. I was an asshole, but not to that extent. My head was fuzzy and my mouth tasted stale and I honestly just wanted to grind into Bella but I resisted with everything that I had until she said the word.

"Yeah, I'm sure," she said, locking my gaze. And even though we were both thoroughly shit-faced, her expression was so sure and so determined that my stomach did a little twist. Not the kind that let me know I was about to vomit, but the kind that reminded me that what I was about to do was completely right and perfect and, well, real.

She _was_ perfect.

"Did you do it? Am I okay?" she'd asked, and I pursed my lips to avoid laughing at her.

"No, Bella," I said tolerantly. "You keep squeezing your legs together and I can't move." Her eyebrows pulled together, and she pulled her shaking legs apart for me. For the first time in my life, I was afraid to fuck a girl. Bella was so vulnerable and _new_ that I didn't want to ruin her. She looked so innocent, sprawled across my bed and all glassy-eyed in the light of my desk lamp as she waited for me. I almost pulled away from her before I heard the next words that slipped from her lips.

"Edward, I trust you, it's fine," she said in a clipped tone, scratching her fingers into the skin of my back anxiously as her eyes burned into mine.

It was everything I wanted in that moment, as her brown eyes stared into mine. They were no longer hollow like they always were in my head, they were full and certain and sure and so fucking _glorious_ like the day I'd first climbed into her window. I blinked, to make sure it was real, her brown eyes that stayed forever on the back of my eyelids gaining a sudden depth that had never been there before. I grinned to myself, opening my eyes, and taking all of her in before doing anything hasty.

Her tangled hair spread over my pillow, her body shaking like hell but her eyes so locked with mine with unbreakable intensity that I had absolutely no doubt in that instant. It would be fine, and there was nothing to worry about. She would be there beside me when I woke up, unlike fucking Jessica Stanley, and she would still love me in the morning even when her head was clear and her thoughts were straight. I loved Bella. I loved Bella. I _loved_ Bella, and it would be perfect.

"Okay," I answered, placing a hand on either side of her face, supporting my weight over her with my arms. I'd been with people before Bella, and even though she was so blameless and exposed, I already knew that it was right.

She gasped slightly as I slid into her, and I darted my eyes to meet hers to make sure she was alright. Her bottom lip was pale from the pressure of her bite as she tried to restrain herself from making noise, but she nodded tersely and bucked her hips slightly to let me know it was okay to keep going. She tightened around me, her eyes pinched closed, and I wanted to fucking sing. It was tense, Bella and I together, and so against the grain of everything that I'd ever seen in movies or read in the romance novels Esme kept in the downstairs powder room. But in spite of the slight awkwardness and gasps that slid from Bella's tightly clenched teeth, it was _perfect_. Perfect, perfect, perfect. Eventually, Bella loosened up and it didn't hurt her so bad anymore. She rubbed my hair softly as she held her other hand to the back of my neck, planting gentle kisses down the side of my face as I hovered above her.

"Are you alright?" I gasped as I moved against her, her legs wrapping around my calves and her little toenails digging into my heels. She nodded quickly, her eyes welling with alien tears as her breathing grew ragged. Her fingers traced up my ribcage as I wrapped my hand around her hip, her thighs pressing against my hips firmly.

"Edward," she gasped, turning her head sharply as her hair toppled into her eyes. I brushed it from her face, hating that her new eyes were hidden from me as I fucking _made love_ to her and felt like a fucking queer for putting it that way. It was not _sex_, and it was not _fucking_. It was straight out, unadulterated, unconditional and irreversible love. And her eyes had been hiding from me for too long to let her fucking hair hide them away from me.

Her fingers dug into the flesh of my back, pushing me down on her, my eyes wide and unmoving as I stared at her face. I was glad she kept her eyes closed, because I would have looked like a fucking creeper as I gaped at her. But through the goggles that liquor had created, I still understood what was happening. I was _in Bella_. The day I thought I would never see until we were seventy-years-old, was here. Bella was beneath _me_, not some other guy, and she was in love with me.

"Edward," she'd sighed over and over, and I felt like the luckiest motherfucker in the world. She was so good to me, so perfect and blameless, that it made my chest tighten. I decided right then and there, as Bella called _my_ name in _my_ bed, that I would do everything in my power to make sure that she never sighed any other fucker's name, ever.

**BPOV**

When I was eight, I fell from a tree house and broke my leg. My mother's boyfriend, Samuel, had built the wooden thing high up in a spruce just beyond my back porch, undoubtedly trying to win her affections as well as mine. Well, that wasn't happening, as far as I was concerned. But Renee had gushed over and over about how perfect it was, how well-made and intricate, littering his face with kisses and blowing up his ego like a helium balloon. It disgusted me.

Go on up, Bella!" she'd squealed, practically pushing me up the rungs of the rope ladder that hung from the platform. I was gangly and awkward, even then, stumbling up the ragged rope and splintering my fingers as they slid stupidly from the wooden slats. I really, really didn't want to do it. I hated the tree house. But I did it anyway because I knew it would make Renee happy. All my life I'd been a people-pleaser, being a doormat against my own will because I knew that it would make somebody happy.

"Smile, Bella!" Samuel called, snapping a picture of me as I leaned against the wooden banister and forced a smile on my eight-year-old lips. His voice was very unpleasant, high and slightly nasally, and I hated him. But Renee loved him, so I posed for the picture like a good little girl.

Before I could do anything, before the flash even went off, before my mother could scream, the wood beneath my elbows gave out, breaking in half and sending me sprawling through the air. I tried to catch myself as my fists grasped at empty oxygen, my lips squeezed so tightly together that I was unable to make a single sound. I remember the color of the ground. It was dark, a sort of brownish green, fading into a miserable scarlet red just as my face planted into it. A sharp pain shot through my right shin, and a rusty, metallic scent was somehow wafting through my nostrils as they squashed into the earth. I don't remember much else—I fainted from all of the blood I absorbed with my heavy pupils. But what I _do _remember was my mother's face when I opened my eyes in the ER.

I saw fear. I saw love and I saw agony. Samuel was nowhere to be seen, and we were alone in the tiny section guarded on three sides by a sick, pastel-colored curtain. She raked my mud-caked hair away from my forehead lightly with her fingertips, tears streaking down her face as she soothed my eight-year-old heart. She was so beautiful, and she was so full of love. Whenever I missed her as I sat alone in my bedroom on the second floor of my father's house, I thought of her in that moment.

Love could be broken so easily. A moment could be lost as soon as it came, and sometimes it was necessary to be prepared if everything you ever planned for fell to dust. Looking back on it, the tree house incident wasn't a life or death situation, of course, but it taught me something. My mother was _scared_. Absolutely paralyzed with maternal fear for her only daughter. Everything could have been gone. Because of Samuel's simple mistake on the craftsmanship of the tree house railing, I could have easily landed on my neck or my spine and Renee would have nothing.

Eyes open, peace.

Blink, destruction.

It was a vicious cycle. And it scared me to death.

But I had accepted reality. It shouldn't be so difficult to stare at Edward in the face as it was right now. He glanced up at me every now and then from his cereal bowl, his green eyes swimming with compassion and wonder. I shuddered.

*

I woke up in Edward's bedroom. In his bed. Without clothes on. Oh my _god_. I looked up from where I was nestled in the crook of his shoulder at his jaw, my head spinning from alcohol consumption and wondering where all my luck had come from. My body was turned toward him, our legs intertwined, as he slept lazily on his back. His mouth had fallen slack as he snored softly, one arm folded with his palm behind his head. Trying remember the night before was like seeing through fog. My head spun, and I couldn't even remember my first name. I nuzzled further into the sheets, tensing slightly and holding my breath when he stirred. His eyes opened, and he blinked several times before turning to squint at his alarm clock.

"Bella? You okay?" he muttered foggily as he sat up, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. I pushed away from him, pulling the sheets up to my neck.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Go back to sleep," I whispered. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

"Don't be silly," he purred, tugging my arms towards him again. "Why are you running away from me?" His eyes were slightly bloodshot, a shadow falling over his features as his desk lamp continued to burn dimly from across the room. I snuggled back into him as he wrapped his arms around me. Edward yawned noisily.

"What time is it?" I asked groggily, trying to sit up but failing beneath the restraint of Edward's pale arms.

"A quarter past five," he sighed, burying his face in my hair. I winced at the thought of what it probably looked like—I wasn't exactly beautiful in the mornings. "You have a couple hours before Alice rises from the dead." I could feel him smile against my head. He rolled me onto my side, twisting so I was facing him. His fingers dragged lazily down my spine.

"I have morning breath," I murmured as I tried to hide against his chest, embarrassed. He laughed roughly, planting a kiss on the top of my head.

"It happens to the best of us," he said. After a few beats of stillness, he added, "If last night had happened with anyone but you, I probably wouldn't be able to remember anything right now." I smiled hugely, and I'm glad that he couldn't see my face as I hid.

"I'm glad you remember," I replied pointedly. "But I hope that that was the last time you try to bed an innocent drunk girl, Edward."

"If I remember correctly, I didn't force those shots down your throat, Sweetheart." Though the nickname was patronizing, I still enjoyed the sound of it more than I should have.

"I'd never been drunk before, you knew that," I grinned stupidly at him as he kissed my temple softly.

"I know. But I hoped that it would work to my advantage." He wiggled his eyebrows impishly, and I frowned at him. "Re-lax, woman," he mumbled. "You know I love you."

"I do." I did. But my stomach did a sharp flip when recollection suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks. I told Edward I loved him. He was in love with me, and had said so because he knew how I felt about him. I told Edward I loved him, and was going to tell him that I knew Carlisle was dying. That was one of the main purposes I showed my feelings in the first place, to let him know that I was there for him and would be, always. But I wouldn't have told him if it hadn't been for my premeditated confession. Edward would not be in bed with me right then if I hadn't known that his father was dying. I had to swallow back the bile that rose in my throat.

"Bella, what's the matter?" he asked, smoothing the crease between my eyebrows with his thumb. "Do you feel sick?" I did. I was hung over, and I was a liar. I had cheated.

"Can I go take a shower?" My voice was small and shaking. I sounded like a child.

"Do you need help? Not with the shower, I mean, unless you want me to. I just mean, like, in general."

I shook my head quickly as I tore from his arms. Despite my extreme guilt, I still had enough within me to blush slightly as Edward's eyes raked over my naked body in the dim light of the room.

"There's a robe over there on the couch that you can wear," he offered. I slid his plaid robe over my bare shoulders as he smirked in approval. I gave a half-hearted smile as I slipped from the confines of his room, trying to wash the images of the night before out of my mind before I could vomit all over the wooden floor.

*

I allowed my brain to wander over the events that had taken place between us. It had begun so seemingly simply, just another sleepover with Alice as Charlie slept alone in our home. But hidden behind keeping up appearances for my dad was the awful truth that Alice had exposed to me. I wanted to vomit.

I'm not sure why I did what I did. I remember throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him, not nearly as careful as I'd been so many times before, swallowing back all the embarrassment that I should have felt. I knew that I was damned if I did and damned if I didn't, so I kissed him. I kissed him hard, our lips crushing against each other, as I forced everything building in my ribcage into the way that we held each other. It didn't take long for him to pull away, looking into my eyes with confusion as he probably wondered what the hell I was doing. My mind raced, trying to figure out _anything _that could distract me from what I knew and what I couldn't tell him. _Aha_. Emmett and Edward were utterly and completely disobedient, and I knew for a fact that Edward would have a stash of _something _lying around.

"Edward?" I'd mumbled, my eyelashes wet. "I'm sorry I'm like this. I have no idea what's going on with me."

He bought into my lie. "It's okay. Alice _is _my sister, after all, so I understand." I forced a barking laugh as I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. "Are you sure you're okay? We can talk if you want."

_Think, Bella, think. Keep your stupid mouth shut, whatever you do._

"No, let's not talk about it, okay? Can we...do something else?" His cocked one eyebrow, his eyes swimming.

"What did you have in mind?" His voice was laced with suggestiveness as I rearranged my face, clinging on to nonchalance with my fingernails.

And that was when it all started.

I could barely recall giggling like an idiot, collapsing into fits of laughter only to cry like a drunken moron. I could recall Edward's mild annoyance as I bounced feverishly, and I could remember the burning as the vodka slid down my throat. But most of all, I could remember the feeling of the air from the window as it hit my naked body.

It happened almost as if it was completely out of my control, although I knew that all I would've had to do was utter one word of distaste and Edward would stop himself. But I didn't, because I knew what I wanted. I wanted Edward, all of him, forever. I wanted Edward everyday for the rest of my life. But I couldn't, even if I didn't tell him that I knew, not ever. Even if I waited for me to tell me himself, even if I stood by him as his father wasted away into nothing. Because _I _would always know that I'd betrayed him, and I couldn't do that to him. So, through the haze of my drunkenness, I undressed in the middle of his gently lit room as he sat on the floor, his eyes glassy as he watched me.

I mentally cursed myself for making Edward take his fingers out of my gray sweatpants. It was like a homeless man refusing shelter; I had turned away the only thing I wanted now. I felt as if I were being smacked into coherence as the friction of my body against the bed sheets warmed me, and everything was _alive_. The liquor had tied my tongue, and for that I was thankful. But I hadn't planned for _this_. I hadn't planned for everything to be so clear, for Edward's eyes to be so focused as he gazed at me. But they were, and the truth was resurfacing.

"Edward," I gasped as I clutched at his shoulder blades. I hated that it was so wonderful. I hated that the one thing that was supposed to be right was the most disgusting thing in the history of mankind.

I buried myself in my mind, closing my eyes to rid of everything, hoping that I could somehow block out the feeling of Edward inside of me. He was almost glowing with happiness as I pinched my eyes shut, and that made it so much worse. My stomach jolted uncomfortably, and I prayed that sleep would come easily as Edward collapsed over me. His arms wrapped tightly around my ribcage as he breathed deeply into my hair.

"Strawberries," he whispered before falling into a deep sleep.

*

Edward asked me again if I wanted any cereal as we sat together at the kitchen table, and the thought of allowing myself to consume anything of sustenance was repulsive to me. I was empty. Edward had tried desperately to fill me, not realizing that I knew the only secret that he ever kept from me. His efforts were wasted. I couldn't be filled, no matter how hard he tried. I had fought dirty. He was the clean one now, releasing all of his filth and giving me his entire heart. It sounded stupid, and a bit crazy, but that didn't make it any less true.

He gazed at me tentatively now between swallows, exuding admiration and respect that I didn't deserve. I could tell that he was wondering what was the matter with me, but I just shook my head and forced a smile as I watched him eat. I'd barely made it to the bathroom he and Alice shared before I threw up noisily into the toilet, my eyes tearing and my body crumpling to the tiled floor. I wasn't sure how to fix what had happened. I wish that it had been different, and though Edward seemed to house no regrets, I had imagined it differently in my mind. From the first time he kissed me to the first time he told me he couldn't stay away from me anymore, it played out perfectly. I almost wanted to make a movie out of the sheer perfection of those two moments that I wanted to constantly wallow in. But this…this was different. Before I was new, but now I was used. And I was glad that it was Edward who had used me, but not under those circumstances.

I knew his father was dying, but he was completely unaware. He gave me everything he had, except for that. And while I knew that he didn't owe me the truth concerning his father, I felt filthy for stealing it from him. I'd stolen it. I'd cheated the system. I knew he had a secret, from that very day that we sat together on the porch of the big, white house. I saw it in his eyes, an electric spark of secrecy behind the skin of his face. I asked him why his home was so terrible to him, and his eyes had tightened and he'd changed the subject. But now I _knew_, I knew everything. I had used Alice in the midst of her vulnerability to yank the truth out from underneath her, swearing to her that I would never say anything to Edward even though he deserved to know. I _knew_. I knew. I could never tell Edward, but I still knew.

I couldn't stop saying it. I was beginning to annoy myself, wondering why I couldn't just shove it in the back of my head and move on. Maybe it was worse that I'd thrown myself at him. I opened the bottle of vodka to try and calm things down, to take his mind away from my obvious distress. I used him like he was an object, I got him drunk and made him have sex with me and I was disgusting. It made me want to cry.

"So, are you going to tell me why you're so pissy? Are you okay?" Edward asked suddenly. I jumped in shock at the hardness of his tone as it broke the silence. I'd been so lost in my own mind that I almost forgot to feign happiness in his presence.

"Yeah," I replied, trying at nonchalance. I failed.

"Bullshit," he commented, lifting another spoonful of cereal to his lips.

"I'm serious."

"Whatever you say, Bella." He sounded more irritated now, his green eyes flaring with annoyance. He glared at me, lifting his spoon to his mouth without glancing down at the bowl. His stare made me uncomfortable, like maybe now because he'd seen all of me, that perhaps somehow he could read my mind. _Stay out of my head!_ I screamed internally, just in case he could. Stupid as it was, I started to wonder if maybe he could. But I was most likely just a terrible liar.

"I have to go," I insisted suddenly, picking the jacket I'd borrowed from him off the back of my chair and shrugging it on. "Charlie will expect me back." He frowned slightly, the cereal falling from his spoon back into the bowl with a _plop_.

"Already?" he whined. "Stay. Please."

I shook my head tersely. "I'm sorry. I promised I'd get home. I have to study for the Calc test on Monday."

He frowned at me. "Will I at least get to see you tomorrow?"

I gulped. I couldn't see him, not without the guilt that was stirring in my stomach making its way back up my throat again. God, I was so stupid. He was possibly the only guy in the history of forever that would still love a girl who'd screwed him and then tried to run away afterwards. But he was consistent, and I was flaky.

"I can't. I...um..I have to go to church." My lie was terrible. Charlie was Catholic, but he wasn't religious. And Renee was...something. I think her latest conversion was to Judaism or something. Edward's jaw clenched as he appraised my expression, a glimmer of hurt in his eyes. It killed me to lie to him so blatantly, not even trying to make it sound believable.

"You and I both know that you don't go to church, Bella. But if you don't want to see me, that's fine, too." His face was agonized, and I mentally smacked myself. So I forced a grin, for him, and walked over to where he sat.

"Let me sit," I ordered, crawling into his lap. He wrapped his arms around me weakly, still irritated, the feel of them awakening the memories of the night before. I sat there in silence, trying to figure out how to dig myself out of the hole I'd made, before he interrupted my thoughts.

"Did you...was I...are you mad that we..." He couldn't finish his sentence, nor could he look at me in the eyes. His insecurity was crippling, like a knife in my chest. He had been perfect. He'd been attentive, and careful, and so absolutely _amazing _that it hurt to think about. It was _me _who was messed up, but I couldn't tell him.

"No, Edward." I insisted, nudging his chin up with my shoulder. "It's nothing like that. I'm glad that you, that _we_...you know. Yeah. I just have a...a um...a doctor's appointment. You know, one of _those_. I guess I have to tell them now that I'm, er, _sexually active_. Or whatever." I hoped that the hesitation leading up to my total and complete _lie _sounded like embarrassment. I checked his face to make sure he hadn't caught my bluff, but I could only see a faint blush on his cheek as I fabricated a gynecologist's appointment. "But I have to go," I continued before he could speak. "I'll call you, I promise." He smiled a crooked grin, his eyes still drooping slightly, but not as pained as before.

"Okay. Do what you have to do, just don't tell me you're going to _church_. Make up something better next time." He let out a chuckle as I pecked him on his full lips, pulling away from his embrace. I choked out a laugh, giving him a quick wave before I ran to get Alice from her bedroom. I needed to be away from Edward, away from the depth of his eyes and the warmth of his chest.

As he looked at me from across the table I had eaten on time and time again, I thought of that tree house that Samuel built. Despite the hatred I'd felt for him, the tree house was pretty cool, sitting high and mighty in one of the only trees that the state of Arizona had to offer. He'd obviously worked very hard on it, trying to please me and make Renee happy. We were similar, in that context, because all we wanted was for the woman that we both loved to smile, if only for a little while. All that effort, all that work, had been destroyed in one millisecond because the wood had been rotten from the start. Everything could have been gone. And it was only after that I realized it, as I was sprawled across a hospital bed, bruised and bleeding.

My relationship was built of rotting wood. A house built of lies, of guilt and deceit, and I had thought that I could keep it standing. But I knew then, as I ran up the spiraling staircase to beg for Alice to drive me home, that my work had been for nothing. The wood was destined to break, and now that it was happening, I couldn't do anything about it. I was flying, twisting in mid-air, with nothing to grab onto to save myself. Everything was damned from the beginning. And Edward...Edward was the one who had tried the hardest. Edward was just like Samuel. He'd worked just as hard as I had, trying to make something beautiful and having it shoved back in his face. And all he could do was stand back and watch the one thing that seemed like it could finally be good break to pieces. It had always been that way for him. He'd always been trying, only to ultimately fail. And I hated myself for being just one other person to fuck Edward over.

It could all be over in an instant. And I was learning this the hard way.

I picked up my pace as I walked swiftly to Alice's room. I needed to get out of there, and fast.


	17. Avoidance

**A/N: I was going to split this one up between B/EPOV, but i forgot. haha. but it's now or never, because i'm taking a week long internship in New York next week, so..i won't be updating for a little while. get ready, because this chapter is angsty. i wrote an extra-long chap for you to hold you over :)  
**

**EPOV**

I had no idea where in the hell I was. I didn't recognize the setting, and the air was a touch too warm for my taste. I knew that I probably wasn't in Forks, because it was sunny, although the ferns I sat among grew from terrain very much like the traditional dark soil I was used to. I was in some sort of clearing, the sky a trippy purple color as the sun set against the earth. I wasn't familiar with anything other than the face that stared back at me. I would know that face anywhere.

Bella looked at me tentatively with understanding eyes, eyes that knew something that I didn't. I hated that fucking look. It was how everyone at school always looked at me, how my sister looked at me, how my father stared down his nose at my face. I hated that look, but it was so fucking _divine_. Because Bella had somehow changed between just over a day ago until now, managing to acquire a glowing tan and grow her chocolate-colored hair out several inches. Her shiny waves tickled my nose, the smell of strawberries swimming beneath my skin as she licked her thick, open lips.

I wanted to touch her.

But right when I reached my hand for her face, she pulled away. Her brown eyes pinched shut as she dodged my reaching fingers, a grimace taking over her angelic features as she danced away from where I sat.

"Bella," I called. She smiled a vengeful smile as I took all of her in. She was mostly undressed as she tore through the tall ferns, disappearing behind me. She didn't speak or make any sort of noise at all. Her silence bothered me; it was uncomfortable. I rose from the rolling ferns, whipping around to search for her as my fingers itched to feel her skin. And that's when I saw it.

It creaked and groaned with age and knowledge, inky clouds billowing in the violet sky behind it as the light faded into a muted darkness. I gasped as I stared at the structure in front of me. I hadn't remembered coming here, and I wondered how Bella had found her way. But she danced up the steps to the big, white house as if she owned the place, turning to smirk at me as she pushed open the heavy door.

"Bella," I called again, falling into a slow run as I tore through the thick vegetation. She stood there, barely clothed in the open door of my favorite place, and I wanted her more than I ever had in my life. More than any other day I'd spent with her, and more than I had in my bedroom when she'd taken her clothes off for me.

The stairs groaned in protest as I skipped up them towards her, a smile ripping over my cheeks as my eyes flitted over her body. I slowed my pace, nearly dragging myself as I approached her, my chest aching for the feel of her skin. But then the weirdest thing happened.

She snatched her smile away from her face, her brown eyes melting into a fuzzy mess like watercolor. A sick, devastating sadness screamed from her cells as she shrunk away from my extended arms, weakly closing the door of the white house inch by inch to hide her face from me.

"Bella," I called for a third time, my voice laced with irritation. She shook her head slowly, a fat tear rolling down her perfect cheek.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking as she spoke for the first time. My chest was thick as I drew in ragged breaths. She retreated further, pushing the door shut between us.

"Bella! Bella, please!" I shouted, running to the door and pounding my fists against it angrily. "Bella, no!" The sound of the lock clicking into place shattered me as I stared at the faded red door. I wasn't sure what was happening or why I was reacting this way, but something in my head told me that for some reason, what was happening was very, _very_ bad.

I reached for the doorknob, rattling it uselessly as I screamed for Bella to come to me. She never came. I stood on the porch until the sun was gone, shouting her name and pounding at the door until my knuckles bled.

And just as I knocked for the last time before the sun disappeared, the house trembled beneath my fist. "Bella!" I screamed as the wooden planks groaned furiously. I barely had time to run from the porch before the home—my refuge, the only thing I had left now—crumbled to rubble.

It happened so quickly. I couldn't scream for help, and I couldn't call for Emmett to help me like he so often did. I looked around me for my father, trying to almost will him into existence so he could push the walls back together. But there was no one, and the girl that I loved was locked inside of a house that she'd tried to keep me out of. Had she known that the house would destroy itself? My big, white house had once been indestructible. It had stood, strong and old, for as long as I could remember. Why was this happening now? Why was this happening as soon as Bella closed the door against me? Why had she closed the door in the first place? I could see her eyes on the back of my eyelids as I so often did, full of tears and identical to the way they'd been as she shut me out. And now, she was going to die.

Suddenly, there was nothing. I stood there, unmoving, as the roof caved in, the shingles and the wasting wood that I knew like I knew my own face collapsing into an unrecognizable heap of nothingness. Nothing survived. Not even the staircase, not even the piano, not even Bella.

I was alone, in a sea of ferns.

*

My eyes shot open. My shirt was fucking disgusting and soaked through with sweat, my head pounding furiously. The extending white drywall ceiling above me calmed my raging nerves as I struggled to breathe, pulling me back to reality as I realized that I was on my mattress and not in the clearing in the woods.

"_Fuck_," I muttered, raking my fingers through my matted hair. "Just a dream." I choked out a humorless laugh as my heart rate returned to normal, mumbling to myself as I unknotted the sheets from my ankles. _It was just a dream, Cullen, it was just a dream_.

But there was something strangely realistic about it, something I couldn't put a finger on. I was used to my dreams being really fucked up, like mini acid trips, and while this one was pretty trippy, something about it made me uneasy. There was a hidden accuracy, a certain truth to it, and it bothered me. Something in the worry of Bella's face, something about the way that my house crumbled to the ground…_Fuck_.

The air felt different.

Alice was edgy. I had no idea what was going on with her, but I didn't really appreciate her being a bitch when I was worried about other things. Primarily Bella, and her tits, and the fact that she may or may not think that I was bad in bed.

Alice's voice was worsening my headache as I shoved down a Nutra-Grain bar, grimacing at the combination of her squeals and the shitty excuse for sustenance I was scarfing down.

"Hurry, Edward!" she shrieked. "I'm supposed to meet Rose at the school early this morning to copy the Spanish homework, and we're going to be late!" She was almost vibrating with anxiousness, and that shit was annoying.

"Fine," I muttered, tossing the rest of the bar into the trashcan and grabbing my book bag. I wasn't really hungry anyway. I just wanted to see Bella, and make sure that she wasn't anything like the Bella in my dream. I knew she wouldn't be, and that my imagination was just going fucking crazy, but it still worried me.

Carlisle and Esme were in Illinois to visit Carlisle's mother for three days. I guess that he wanted to be with her during this time in his life, and she was too old to fly all by herself. I wasn't sure how that trip would work out, what with Carlisle starting chemo recently. He was to have one straight week of treatment, followed by another two and a half weeks of rest before starting right back up again. But he was a doctor, as well as a major string-puller, so I tried not to be so neurotic. Plus, he'd worked at the hospital in Chicago before he moved to Washington, so maybe he could work something out with the doctors there. Alice was running the house now that they were gone, and it was driving me crazy. I'd almost begged Esme not to leave. Carlisle had vomited on the floor as they scurried to the car to get to the airport, but he'd just smiled weakly and walked off to brush his teeth. It was so goddamn _Carlisle_. He was always passing things off as nothing. He looked more and more like a corpse everyday, even though he was just three days into his chemotherapy. Obviously, he'd already taken away all of his hair, and he was having a hard time adjusting. He started retching Sunday night at dinner, and Esme was concerned. Generally, patients didn't experience side effects like that until later. Carlisle had assured her that it was nothing, and politely excused himself to hide in his goddamn study. I wanted him home, where I could keep an eye on him. I knew I couldn't help him, but it still made me uneasy.

Alice opted to drive today without even asking me, starting the car and turning on the stereo full blast. The pounding bass made conversation virtually impossible, and something told me that it was purposeful. Alice was being just the same as Bella, but it was harder for her because we lived together. What the fuck was going on? She'd taken Bella home Saturday morning, and after she'd gotten back, she just ran up to her room without a word. That was the last time I'd heard from Bella all weekend, too, and something in my gut told me that both issues were related.

"Okay, so we can make this easy, or hard," I spat, clicking off the radio station that Alice was humming to.

"What the hell, Edward? I was listening to that."

"Honestly, Alice, I really don't give a damn."

"You don't have to be such a dick all the time," she said, irritation lacing her voice. "Now, what do you want? Make it quick, because I like that song."

"I want you to tell me what's going on with Bella. And don't say that you don't know, because I _know_ that you know." I stared at her, waiting for her to answer me. She kept her face turned towards the road, staring pointedly out the windshield. Her knuckles paled as she gripped the steering wheel.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Edward," she mumbled, so quietly that it was nearly a whisper.

"Don't lie to me." What was with women and keeping secrets? It was _beyond_ fucking obnoxious.

"Honestly, it's nothing. It has nothing to do with you." Her eyes shifted a bit in their sockets, and I knew that she was bluffing. I ran over the possibilities in my mind. Naturally, I'd already made a mental list, and all of the things I came up with were completely bizarre with the exception of a few.

"She's not like…with somebody else, right? You'd tell me if she was, wouldn't you?" I could hear my voice cracking, and I wanted to punch myself. Alice sneered.

"Come on, Edward, don't be ridiculous." I released the breath I'd been subconsciously holding, crossing out that possibility in my mind. What else could it be? What could Bella possibly be—fuck. Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck.

"Alice," I growled. "Alice. Alice…Did you…did you tell her?" We both knew what I was talking about. My vision clouded as I glared at her, rage building on the back of my tongue.

"I…Edward, no," she stuttered, glancing at me as I fumed. "No," she repeated, and my chest loosened infinitesimally.

"You swear?" I asked, my teeth clenched. Her eyes flickered to me again before she looked back to the road.

"Yes. Now calm down." I exhaled again, unclenching the fists that I didn't remember making.

I wasn't sure why I was so angry about the possibility of Alice telling Bella. It was something that I couldn't explain, something that sounded stupid even in my head. But it was sort of like this loyalty thing, this bond that I felt with my brother and sister. It was something that united us, something that gave us all common ground. I regularly got along with them, anyways, but we were always so different. I always felt like I was missing what they had. I always felt like I was the one coming up short, where Emmett and Alice succeeded. But now, despite the hole that my father's sickness had made, I felt as if another hole that had already been there was filled. Emmett, Al, and I were all in the same boat, in the same situation, and we leaned on each other. Sure, Rose was there for Em and Jasper was there for Alice, but we were all still alone. Rose and Jasper could never really understand. They could help, but they couldn't heal. We only had each other.

And the thought that Alice could even possibly bring Bella, faultless, innocent Bella, into the middle of all of that killed me. I knew she'd never do that to me. I was waiting for the right time to tell her. I knew I had to tell her eventually, because I was in love with her, and I wanted to trust her. And, of course, I couldn't just avoid the truth and make up some lame excuse when Carlisle came around the house with a shaved head. It would be even more difficult to lie when Carlisle just randomly dropped dead. But this was _my_ issue, and I wanted to do it on _my_ time. Alice wouldn't tell. It meant too much to me. She'd probably been unintentionally avoiding me. I was a fucking psycho for jumping to conclusions and thinking that Alice and Bella's issues were related.

"Sorry," I murmured. "I didn't mean to get all Jerry Springer on you."

"It's okay," she whispered, her eyebrows pulling up. She looked concerned, or sad, even. But I decided not to push her even further.

"If you find out what's going on, just…let me know, okay?"

She nodded before reaching over to turn the radio back on.

*

I was walking. Nothing weird in that scenario. And Bella was beside me, which was normal, too. And I was looking at her like she was made of sparkly shit and rays of sun were coming from her ears like I normally did. I mean, I had just fucked her two nights ago, and I was willing to brush it off when her phone remained busy for a solid forty-eight hours. I knew Alice would tell me what was going on when she found out. But other than that, everything was going normally.

I suppose it all seemed that way, because her thoughts were silent and protected in her skull. But I'd reached to cup her little face with my hand to kiss her before going off to my English class to endure yet another day of Ms. Berry molesting me with her eyes, and Bella just…she…she pulled away.

She jerked her face from my touch, my hand falling lifelessly from her face as she threw me a weak smile and walked away in the opposite direction. I stood there for a good minute stupidly, my mouth hanging open as I watched her retreating form.

"What's wrong with her?" A musical voice asked me from over my shoulder. Rose stood there, Emmett's arm around her waist as they watched Bella crossing the courtyard. I glared at her, a growl building in my chest as I shoved past Emmett towards my next class.

"Jesus, forgive me for asking, Dickward," I heard her call as I walked away. I turned back to her as I walked just enough to flip her the bird.

This was getting really old, really fast.

Bella sat by me at lunch, but she wasn't really there. She was inside of her own head the entire hour, barely nodding or shaking her head in response to the questions I asked her. Frustrated, I stopped asking the simple 'yes' or 'no' type questions, opting to ask her where she was spending Christmas. And the girl shook her head. That wasn't even a proper answer to my question. I stared intently at her for the rest of lunch, willing her to look at me as she cradled her forehead in her right hand. She never did.

"Bella?" I asked, turning to look at her for the thousandth time that day as she sat quietly in my passenger seat. We had been driving in silence. Alice had shoved her ear buds in her ears in the backseat, and I figured that it was to give Bella and I some much-needed privacy as I drove her home.

She turned to meet my gaze, the corners of her mouth turned down. "Yes?" she answered, crossing her arms over her chest. I wished that I had thought of what to say before that split second that I impulsively called her name, but I was coming up dry. I couldn't think of what to ask her, how to make her tell me what the hell was wrong with her. I needed more time to think out what to spit out to avoid looking like an asshole, so I came up with the next best thing.

"Come over tonight."

She seemed to deliberate for a minute, a crease forming on her forehead as she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. She was quiet for a while, and just as we pulled into her rain-slicked driveway, she spoke.

"Yeah, I need to come over," she said, her voice horse. "I'll call you in a few hours." I nodded once, pausing before leaning forward to peck her on the lips. It wasn't affection, or love. It was routine. And it made my chest hurt.

The few hours that I had to myself were terrible. I had just enough time to get myself worked up, going over my mental list of possible scenarios and fuming over each and every one of them. I paced back and forth in my room, grinding my teeth and was, for the first time, glad that Carlisle wasn't coming up tonight. I wasn't exactly sure what to be angry about, because I didn't know what was going on, but I was especially irritable considering all the shit going on and I was taking it out on Bella. I was mad that she was avoiding me, and I was mad at my sister for not meddling for me like I wanted, and I was mad at Carlisle for leaving even though he was sick. I was mad that Esme didn't make him stay, and I was mad at Emmett for disappearing and not hanging out with me like he used to. I was mad that he was turning to Rose and not me, and I was mad that I was the only fucking person in the dark. Bella was the easiest one to blame, other than myself.

I was waiting for Bella to call and ask me to pick her up, and the aggravation that she hadn't yet built up the towering tension even more. My phone sat silently on my desk, laughing at me as I paced. I jumped a little when the doorbell rang less than twenty minutes later, and I nearly sprinted down both flights of stairs to the door.

"Bella?" I asked stupidly as I took all of her in. She stood on my porch, her hair dripping wet as the rain poured on my front lawn. She gave an involuntary shiver, shifting uncomfortably in the drenched tan jacket she wore.

"Hey," she smiled. "Charlie fixed my truck." She gestured towards the shitty red Chevy that sat in my driveway, and I frowned. A fixed truck meant no more rides to school. Did that mean that she didn't want me to drive her anymore? Was I so repulsive to her that she spent hundreds, possibly thousands of dollars to fix her car in order to get away from me? Another shiver ripped through her, tearing me away from my reverie, and I yanked her into the warmth of my house. She pulled her jacket off, hanging it on the hook that now had a piece of tape with her name above it, her teeth chattering.

"Come on," I said, grabbing her hand and pulling her up the stairs.

"Wait," she protested, pulling her hand away. "I'm going to make some hot tea really fast, go ahead up to your room. I'll meet you there."

I cocked an eyebrow at her. "You sure? I can help--,"

"No," she answered quickly. "I don't want you to. I already know where everything is." Her words hit me like a brick as she turned towards the kitchen. Her hair was making a little trail of puddles on the hardwood as she walked, and I stood there foolishly for a beat before I lugged my ass up the stairs.

She didn't want my help? What the hell? First, she hadn't called me for two days after she basically jumped on my dick. Then, at school, she'd pulled away when I tried to kiss her. And just then, she'd pulled her hand away from mine, bossing me around in my own home and leaving me there with my mouth hanging open like an idiot. The rage that I'd tried to conceal before was now boiling in my blood. I climbed the stairs to the third floor rapidly, sitting on the end of my bed and ripping my fingers through my knotted hair. A feeling of dread was in my stomach, and for once, I knew that I wasn't just overreacting. Something was going on. Bella _never_ pulled away from me. Was she afraid because she'd told me that she loved me? Maybe her new vulnerability was making her weird. But that _couldn't_ be it. I sat there, deliberating, when I heard her push my door open. She stood in the open doorway, her hair twisting and sopping wet, holding two mugs of lemon honey tea. My favorite.

It didn't take long for the kindness and warmth of her gesture to wear off. I was standing across from her, screaming at her, as she struggled to defend herself. It was frustrating, because somehow, her comebacks and defenses had strengthened. Bella was usually a stammering, blubbery mess. But as I yelled empty insults at her, my three day-old frustration bubbling over, she cut me back with words so sharp that I almost didn't believe they were coming from her mouth.

"What the fuck is going on with you? Why won't you fucking talk to me?" My voice was raspy and crazed, my eyes nearly popping out of my head as I hovered over her. Goddamn fucking cheat. She wasn't telling me what the hell was wrong with her, and I'd already asked over and over. She stood in the center of my room, her shiny brown hair strangely dull and wild with static, her little fingers clenched into fists at her sides.

"Nothing is going on, Edward. Stop yelling," she growled softly, glaring at me through her eyelashes. Her tea was steaming from my bedside table, forgotten and neglected.

"_I'll_ stop yelling if _you_ fucking stop lying!"

"Keep it down, in case Alice is home," she hissed. I pounded my fist against the side of my bookshelf, a few books toppling down and tumbling all over the carpet.

"Is there something in particular that you wanted, then?" I roared. "Why would you even show your face here if you're just going to keep lying?"

Her chin quivered, her eyes filling with rage-induced tears as she vibrated in place.

"Just…God, Bella, just tell me. This can all go away if you just tell me why you're fucking avoiding me." My voice was calmer now. Her tears always did that shit to me. She shook her head violently, refusing to answer as she mashed her lips shut. "Tell me!" I repeated, taking her face between my hands and shaking her a little. I should have been more careful with her; she was much too fragile. But I was angry, and she wouldn't speak. It had been absolute hell the past three days, and I couldn't take it anymore. It seemed like a short period of time when I thought about it, but three days of of barely hearing her voice at all was like a hammer to the temple. I couldn't take her evasion, her vacant stares, and I sure as hell couldn't take the return of her hollow brown eyes whenever I closed mine. I shook her again, her tears spilling over as she stared at me.

"I…I can't. It's…it's nothing," she whispered, her eyes softer.

"Jesus, Bella," I spat. "How hard can it be?"

"Harder than you think," she replied shakily. Panic built in my chest as I glared at her—what if something was wrong? I went quickly back over my mental list, realizing that not once had I included something actually wrong with _her_. It was all about _me_, if Bella was cheating on _me_, if she didn't like _me_ anymore, if _I_ was bad in bed. I thought that Bella and I together had been wonderful, with doves and fireworks and stars and flying and all that shit. But then, I was concerned about myself, not really worrying about her. Nothing was about _her_. What if she was sick, or Charlie was in trouble…what if something was terribly, horribly wrong? I was being forceful, and unsupportive. But I wanted to know, and she wouldn't tell.

"Bella, listen, whatever it is, I'll be here. Just tell me. I want to help," I pleaded, my grip on her cheeks lightening.

And the girl just shook her fucking head again. I growled, but swallowed back the rage that was building in my throat.

"Bella," I murmured, leaning into her face. "Please." I kissed her lightly, trying to ease her into just telling me the damn truth, but she did something that drove me fucking crazy.

She pulled away. Again. She jerked her lips away from mine, her tears spilling over her lips and down her chin, onto my wrists.

"Stop, Edward," she whispered, her eyes pinched closed. "Stop this. Don't touch me." Oh my God. This was _bad_. Something bad was happening, something worse than I'd thought, and I still didn't have a clue as to what it could be. I was pissed off, and worried, and _fuck_, I had no idea.

I'd been euphoric when I woke up beside her that morning, and I knew that she didn't regret having sex with me from the look on her face. She'd kissed me the same, flashed me the same smile, but it was like a fucking flip of a switch. Suddenly, her face tensed up, her body rigid, and she slipped away with talk of needing the bathroom or some shit. And then…nothing.

I was a Cullen. We Cullen men knew how to handle our shit. We knew how to protect ourselves, and we knew not to get involved with a woman without wrapping our dongs first. It was like, Rule Number One in life. But the only explanation I could come up with was that Bella was pregnant. _Fuck_. That had to be it. It was on my mental list, and it made almost perfect sense. Something that she would avoid me over, something that had changed after we'd fucked in my bed. Something that would have her crying now, afraid to tell _me_, of all people. She always told me _everything_.

_Fuck_. I couldn't handle a pregnant Bella. I loved her, of course, but I couldn't take being a baby daddy on top of all the other shit going on in my life. There was absolutely no way. I knew—because I'd seen her take it—that she was on the pill. She murmured something about her mother being neurotic, but I knew she was taking it, regardless. And, drunk or not, I _always_ used a condom. No questions asked. It was imprinted in my DNA; I put one on without even having to think about it. So, thankfully, unless some shit backfired, that option was out.

Which meant she had to be sick, or something equally as terrible. Maybe I was jumping to conclusions. Maybe since my dad was sick, anytime anything bad was going on, I automatically assumed that sickness had something to do with it. But she was positively _shaking _beneath my hold, jerking her head away from me as I tried to kiss her, and I knew that I should stop. But I couldn't. I was afraid, and I saw that she was too, and I wanted her to open up to me. So I kissed her again.

"Don't," she pleaded, her jaw taught beneath my fingers.

"Bella," I muttered, "trust me. I love you." I dipped down to kiss her again, her lips hard and still mashed together. I kissed her zealously, willing her to calm down and tell me what was going on. Right before I was going to pull away and try to ask her once more to tell me what was going on, her lips softened suddenly. She opened her mouth, darting her tongue in between my lips and moaning against me. Her hands unclenched from their fists, reaching around my neck and tousling in my hair so roughly that it hurt. I tensed, worried about her abrupt mood swing, but eventually gave up as the girl let out a positively _heavenly_ purr. I was still kind of pissed, and I still wanted information out of her, but even a gay dude couldn't resist _that_ shit.

"Edward," she whimpered, kissing the edge of my jaw before doing that fucking awesome thing with her tongue again. Worry still danced along the edges of my thoughts, but the scent of her and the feel of her hands grabbing at my hair blurred out all of the processes of my brain. My body turned to mush as she yanked at my scalp, tears still pouring out of her eyes and onto my cheeks. I thought about pulling away to soothe her, because I still didn't know what the tears were all about, and I wanted to know why she was so fucking lost. But her hands untwined from my hair, pressing firmly up against my chest as she walked me back to my bed.

"Bella, what are you…" I asked, attempting to form a full sentence before she silenced me with her urgent lips. Why was she doing this? Don't get me wrong, when I was fucking Bella I had loved every second of it, and it was the only clear memory that I had of the entire night. Bella's body seemed to take every drop of liquor from the pit of my stomach, my mind suddenly fresh and clear. But then, she just…dropped off. She did the next worse thing other than leaving me, and it fucking killed me.

But here she was, straddling me on my bed, the muscles of her thighs tight against my sides as I reached around to cup her ass. She was panting and crying and tearing the shit out of my hair, and it was erratic and crazy and I had no idea what was going on. I felt like someone was playing tug-o-war with my brain, one side fighting for coherence while the other side chanted for lust to consume me. Something was _wrong_, and all I could think about was fucking my obviously broken girlfriend.

"Bella," I grunted when she pulled away for air, "we should talk. This is—''

"This is what I want," she said sternly, the depths of her eyes churning with a fervor that I couldn't understand. "Listen to me, just this once."

"I can't, I'm being an asshole. You can tell me, just don't…do…this. You know, don't do this just because you feel threatened." I gripped her waist, trying to calm down my raging boner and to speak to her with sincerity that wasn't affected by my nagging hormones.

"I know what I'm doing, Edward. I'm not a goddamn child."

_Ah_. Lightbulb. So that was it. Bella was tired.

We had all treated her like she was so delicate. She was stuttering, spastic, crazy, incapable Bella, and we all protected her like she was a little kid. She murmured a muffled 'thanks' every time, but I should have seen the hurt swimming beneath the surface. I saw it in her face the night I crawled through her window, and the night she yelled at me from the bench at the end of Emmett's bed. I saw it in her face on the porch of my big, white house, and I saw it when she brushed my wet hair off my forehead with tender fingers. I even saw it just then, as she yelled back at me in my bedroom. Bella was strong. She was strong, and fierce, and so fucking _capable_ that I hated myself for never seeing it. But she buried it back, afraid in her own skin. I protected her, when she only wanted to protect herself. And by doing it, I shoved her confidence further and further back in her mind, alienating her, handicapping her. I was _making_ her incapable. God, I was stupid. As she shuddered above me, her expression wild with a poorly masked loathing, I hated myself. I hated myself for never allowing her to be, for telling her she was all wrong, even though she wasn't. I told her she was weak, and unable. I made her think that she needed me to do it on her own, but she didn't. I'd fooled her, and myself. I had nothing without her, and I tricked myself into thinking she needed me so she'd stay.

"I know you're not," I replied, my voice thick with my shattering epiphany. My thoughts were rolling around in my skull like waves, my mind distant as Bella hesitated.

"Let me, Edward. Just…let me." Her voice was softer now, but she was still begging. She waited, and when my mind finally settled into place, I nodded weakly.

Her hands shook as she struggled to unbuckle my belt, her brows furrowing when I reached down to help her.

"Let me fucking do it," she growled. "I can do this."

Her words had double meaning, and I didn't miss that. But instead of saying anything, I just leaned back and let her do it on her own.

She yanked my pants down over my knees, not bothering to pull them over my ankles. Her hands were still trembling as she lifted my shirt over my head, her eyes hardening just barely when I leaned up to help her take it off. Her fingertips lingered at the hem of her own shirt, and the yearning in my own eyes must have been so evident that she allowed me to tug it over her shoulders and neck myself. I saw her bite her lip in fear as she stared at my still-intact boxers, a strange confidence that I still wasn't used to taking over her features as her face changed. This was it.

Bella ripped my boxers down quickly, leaving them resting over my ankles like my jeans. I lay there lifelessly as she drank me in, her eyes jolting in their sockets as she removed her pants. Her bra was flimsy, easily snatched away, as were her underwear.

The light was on, and it was cold. But we stayed there, unclothed, my feet hanging off the side of my bed.

"Edward," she whispered, a crease forming in her forehead as she leaned down to kiss me tightly. She slowly lowered herself on top of me, taking my face gently in her hands. Her gentleness disguised the determination in her eyes subtly, but not enough to got unnoticed.

I grasped her shoulder blades, the need in my broken heart building as I held her close to me. I knew now that she didn't need me around, and that was why she was crying. She _could_ be without me, and she was letting me down easy. I made her a child. She wasn't, and she recognized that now. My fingernails dug into her back as I saw that clearly, the desperation spilling from my veins as I leaned up to deepen the kiss.

Her hips rocked against me, our skin clapping against each other as she cried and I stared. I was numb, and I couldn't do anything but fuck the shit out of her just so I could feel bad about it later. She grunted and hollered, in such high contrast to the gentle sighs and gasps that resonated in my head after we'd first slept together. She was so angry now, so strong and furious, that I was afraid. Her hands scraped up the inside of my thighs, her breath shaky as she settled into place. I slid into her, a growl building in her chest as she bucked in a harsh rhythm. I leaned against the pillows, glancing over her shoulder at the ceiling, unblinking.

"God, Edward," she hissed, catching her breath. I was still inside her as she slowed, collapsing against my chest as she came down. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," I countered, my voice dead. "But it's okay." She pushed herself away, looking into my eyes with confusion.

"Aren't you going to ask why I just did that? I just…I just took advantage of you, Edward." Her tone was bemused, her face foreign and unfamiliar.

"I'm not going to fucking ask you _why_, Bella," I replied harshly, pulling out of her and shoving her gently away from me. "All I ever do is ask you _why_. I never get an answer, and I'm still fucking here for you."

"Are you blaming _me _for all this?" she asked, blinking against her bewilderment. "If you didn't want me to fuck you, all you had to do was say so." Her voice was thick with venom. God, I didn't want to get into this again. All we had done for the past hour was yell and scream and blame each other. It was exhausting, and I was tired of playing the game. Bella had gotten what she wanted, and she was bailing. She had her own confidence now, and she didn't need me. So why was she still here?

"Why the hell are you blaming _me_?" she repeated, her eyes wide with rage.

"_Hm_, Bella, I don't know. Why in the _world_ would I blame you? I mean, all you did was have sex with me and then bolt, not talking to me for days after pulling a classic fuck and duck, and then you suddenly show up here fucking crying again, like you always do. I asked you what was wrong, and you jumped on my dick. How could I _possibly_ think something was wrong?" My words were harsh, and I knew it. But they were true, and she didn't need me anymore, so I didn't know why she was still there with me in my room instead of halfway out the door like I knew she wanted to be.

"You're a selfish son-of-a-bitch, Edward. No, you're one better than that. You're a _lying_ selfish son-of-a-bitch. You're a control freak, and a cheat, and a fucking liar."

"I'm a lot of things, Bella," I shouted. "I've been an asshole, I've been controlling, I've been unreasonable. But never, _never_ have I lied to you. I would bet anything on it." My shoulders shook as I pulled on my boxers, suddenly feeling foolish as I yelled at her while undressed.

"Oh, good one," she laughed. "Well then explain this to me. What the fuck is going on with Carlisle!?" Her tears, which had been subsiding, were now leaking from her eyes like a faucet. Her nose was running, her lips pink and swollen as she hugged the sheets to her bare chest. "Explain that to me! Explain why you couldn't tell me! Explain why you had to lie! Because I couldn't handle it? Because you think I'm a child? Spare me, Edward. Spare me all this fucking bullshit." The expletives rolled uncharacteristically off her tongue as she leapt from the bed, tearing the sheet from the mattress to wrap around herself.

"She told you," I gasped. What. The. Fuck. Alice had sworn that she'd wait until it was time. She'd _sworn_. She'd lied to me that very morning without even a moment's hesitation, and everything was fucked up now. I would know when I wanted Bella to know. And now, beneath the weight of my new understanding, I knew why I hadn't told her sooner. Because I had no hold on her. I never had. I had only tricked myself into thinking that I did. So I kept this secret inside, afraid to tell her in the case that I would lose her. But she'd known.

"How long?" I asked. Bella knew what I meant.

"Since Friday night after we went to Port Angeles."

Unadulterated fury shot through my veins as I struggled to contain myself.

"You _knew_. You knew, you _filthy_, lying slut!" I spat the words at her, and she cringed away. I hated to see her hurt like that, but I couldn't let myself love her.

"Edward, let me--,"

"No, _you_ let _me_, now." I shook so roughly that my vision was blurred. "You came up here after she fucking told you, claiming that you fucking _love_ me. But you lied, Bella, because you felt sorry for me. So I fucked you. I fucking made love to you, and then you ditch. I waited for three days to find out what was going on, I waited for _three days _for you to even _talk_ to me, thinking that you had fucking cancer or some shit like that. I was worried, so worried I couldn't sleep. And now I come to find that you _knew_, you knew the biggest secret I've ever had, the only thing I've ever kept from you. And you disguised your guilt and your pity as _love_. You took everything I had left away from me."

"Edward, I...I'm sorry," she choked, her cheeks stained with wasted tears. She was so helpless, her hair messy and tangled from the grasp of my fingers. Her strong defense was broken, her jaw falling from its hard line as she wept.

"_You're sorry_," I laughed bitterly. "Yeah, so am I."

**A/N: this chapter was very poorly written. i apologize. but it's a bridge chapter, leading to more good stuff. carlisle will be back soon, his return bringing about more and more fucking angst. ****but mainly, i need reviews, because i was reading this shitty-ass fic posted two weeks ago that used this exact sentence: 'charlie rape me and pull off his pant he was mad.' and..it has about forty more reviews than 'relief.' so help me out! this is a long-ass AN, sorry. anyhoo, angsty chapter, written in the wee hours of the morning, so excuse the several mistakes that I know are undoubtedly in there somewhere. that's what i get for not having a beta. but be patient, young padewans, and review your hearts out. because reviews make faster and longer updates :) see you in a week!  
**


	18. Playing The Blame Game

**A/N: i'm back! thanks for all the awesome reviews. sorry i'm doing so much EPOV. i was going to split this B/E but i went in a completely different direction than i'd first intended. also, i apologize for all of the typos. i didn't edit this chap before posting, so now it's all better :)**  
song:** night terror by laura marling  
**

Sometimes life doesn't make sense.

Shit happens, and you move on.

That's what I had to keep telling myself every time she crept into my thoughts, every time I saw her hollow brown eyes staring back at me.

I hated myself for the things that I said to her. They were hurtful, and angry, and so untrue that I wanted to hit myself. Someone once said that pride comes before a fall. And it was definitely fucking true. The whole problem with Bella was that I was _proud_. The whole thing with Carlisle and Bella was because of my pride. I was too stubborn to tell her, like I probably should have, and I was too proud to admit my complete vulnerability to her. And in the end, I got…well, I got nothing. I got Bella's tears, a smack in the face, and a nice view of the back of her head as she ran from my bedroom.

Whenever I closed my eyes, I always saw hers staring back at me. But now, things were different. Worse, even. Because every time my eyes were closed, even if for just half a second, not only did I see the deep brown caverns of Bella's irises, but I also saw her right after I pushed her out of my life. She'd stared at me for one silent minute before tugging on her clothes, wiping the hot, messy tears from beneath her eyes with the back of her hand as she stumbled through my doorway. It was the saddest thing I'd ever seen, and I tried to push the pity I felt for her away to the back of my mind as I turned my head away from her.

"Goodbye, Edward," she'd whispered hoarsely before shutting my door quietly. My mind was racing over the last hour, my throat raw with disgust as I thought of what happened. Bella was gone, and she wasn't coming back.

I had no idea why I did it. I didn't know why I'd yelled at her, why I'd called her a slut when she so obviously wasn't, why I'd screamed at her for knowing when a part of me already knew that she had. It was sort of like a knee-jerk reaction, a moment of complete and naked fury in the midst of my shame. I was _ashamed_. I let Bella have sex with me, again, even though she obviously wasn't ready for it. She never fucking was. It made me so furious with myself, so disgusted, that I wanted to just lay in a hole for a while. I could come out after Carlisle was dead, and after Bella had moved on. Everyone would be healed, and I could just be alone and away from everyone while they mended so I couldn't fuck up anything more than I already had.

I was still pissed at Bella. I gave her five hundred thousand chances to just fucking _tell me_ and she didn't. I still didn't know if she really loved me, and that was enough to make my chest ache. I _loved_ her. I loved her so much that it hurt me, and I fucked _that_ up, too. I made her weak and dependent instead of helping her, and it was natural for her to resent me. As much as I knew that I should hate her, and as much as I wanted to, I couldn't. It was impossible, it was consuming, and it was fucking annoying.

I used Bella, and I threw her away. And now there was no getting her back. So what did that leave me?

I knew Carlisle sensed something different in the air. He and Esme returned from Illinois that Thursday, and rather than coming upstairs to ask me why I was being such a recluse, he'd sent me a text message asking if there was anything at all that I needed.

_Nothing, don't come up here_, I'd responded. He didn't reply to that.

He never asked why I stayed home for the rest of the week, or why I didn't come to dinner when Esme called. He didn't ask why I didn't leave for the rest of the weekend, or why I neglected to go to school the following Monday. I was being a whiny little bitch, and I was thankful that Emmett and Alice failed to nag me about it. I would lie on the right side of my four-posted bed, staring at the wall and trying as hard as I could not to blink too often. Sleep eventually consumed me, and there was no avoiding that. I had so many thoughts racing through my mind that it was dizzying.

Carlisle still climbed the steps without fail since he and Esme returned from Chicago. It was so unlike him, so consistent, that I wished he had more to come up the stairs to. I could have counted on one hand the nights that he avoided me to stay in his study, and more often times than not were nights I was with Bella. But he still came. I heard him enter almost silently, only the click of the door shutting indicating his presence. I assumed that Bella told Alice everything. Carlisle seemed to know as well, because not once did he speak. Every night for the rest of the week, he lowered himself quietly onto the leather couch and sat there, breathing evenly for just over an hour before exiting as quietly as he came.

I wanted to shout at him to leave. I hated being such a pussy, such a coward, hiding in my room like Alice had after Esme told her what was happening to us all. I hated it, but I needed it as well. I couldn't even think of facing what I knew was inevitable. I couldn't take looking at Bella in the eyes, remembering the words I had said and the venom in her voice as she tried to prove her capability. I wanted to tell my father to get out, to let me wallow until I was spent and had no choice but to endure another seven-hour school day. But I couldn't, because a part of me—if only a small part—knew that his presence was comforting. I knew that he was concerned, and that he wanted to be up there with me even if I wasn't speaking to anybody. For the first time in a long time, I felt like Carlisle _cared_. I felt like he wanted to be around me, like I wasn't some sort of inconvenience to him. Through my pain and regret, I felt a warmth in my stomach that maybe everything could be okay. If Carlisle could live through this, if he could fight through the cancer that was taking him, everything would be okay. The first night he left, I turned to my closed door as soon as I heard him shut the door behind him. The steaming bowl of soup left on my side table was enough to tell me that maybe my father had cared all along.

*

Having a twin sister in mostly all of my classes was definitely a perk. On Tuesday afternoon, I was able to borrow Esme's car to take all of my missed work in after school, carefully avoiding any sight of a red, ancient Chevy. I felt stupid for avoiding her—she was just a tiny, one hundred and ten-pound girl. But those eyes…those eyes alone would be enough the wrap the Mercedes around a tree and send me through a windshield. An ordinary, 1950s Chevy would be enough to cause hazard with my nearly perfect driving skills.

My teachers were decently nice about the whole extended absence thing, handing me any extra assignments with sympathetic eyes and telling me to get better soon. Alice had conjured some bullshit about the flu, and I guess they all seemed to believe it. My eyes had deep enough shadows below them to pass as illness.

I drove home steadily, the consistent rain pounding against the sunroof as I turned into my driveway. Emmett's Jeep sat in front of the house rather than in the garage, the Volvo parked beside it. I wondered briefly why Em wasn't at Rose's or Alice as Jasper's like they normally would be after school, and almost immediately I became nervous. My palms began to sweat as I ran through the rain to the porch, my eyebrows knitting together as I pushed open the front door.

"Carlisle? Esme? Is everyone okay?" I called from the foyer, my eyes flickering around the den for my family.

"In here, Edward," I heard Alice call from the kitchen, and immediately I let out the breath I'd been holding. Her tone was relaxed, and I realized that everything was alright. At least for now.

My family was seated at the round kitchen table, all four of them. They were looking at me with pointed stares, even Emmett sitting calmly as concern painted his features. Relief washed over me as I saw that Carlisle was among them, safe for the moment rather than on the verge of death as I thought he would be when I saw all of my family's cars parked outside the house.

"What's going on?" I asked quietly as I stopped in the doorway, shoving my hands nervously in my jacket pockets. I was the only one in the dark, and I immediately put up my defenses. This was too familiar. This felt to much like what had already happened, what had been happening for just over a week now.

"Sit down, Ed," Emmett muttered, pushing out a chair beside him. I cringed slightly as the wooden legs screeched against the tile, and reluctantly crossed to floor to sit between Esme and my brother.

"What's going on?" I repeated, shifting awkwardly in my seat. Carlisle shot a reassuring glance at me from across the table, his eyes drooping slightly beneath his brow. I tried to keep my eyes away from the top of his head, ripping away from his stare and glancing down at the tabletop. Esme grabbed my hand beneath the table. My stomach churned although there was nothing in it to start with, and my throat closed up with anxiousness. This whole thing was obviously about me.

"Well, Edward, I suppose that since for the last few months you've been completely and blatantly honest with me, I might as well do you the same favor," Carlisle said firmly, clasping his hands in front of him. Alice's phone went off just then, and Esme shot her a threatening stare before she set it on the table with an apologetic look.

"Elaborate, please," I said sternly, looking around the table to each of their faces. Carlisle drew in a deep breath.

"Look, son. Don't be offended or angry with any of us. We're all here to tell you that…well, we're all…we're all _concerned_." He straightened his collar against his neck, clearing his throat nervously.

"Concerned?" I asked stupidly, narrowing my eyes. "About _what_ exactly?"

"I guess I mean to say that you've more or less closed yourself off from us, and we all know what's going on. I've let you sit up in your room for almost a week and a half now without question, and we're all getting sort of tired of it," Carlisle admitted sheepishly, his blue eyes softening. I opened my mouth to spit out an insult, but snapped it closed as I realized that he was probably right. My family was being sort of amazing about the whole thing, leaving me alone for such a long expanse of time just as I'd wanted. I wanted to get defensive, but my problem was that I had nothing to defend myself with.

"I guess you're right," I murmured, watching as Esme's eyes widened.

"Gosh," she breathed, "I'm surprised you're not starting an argument over this, Edward. I thought you'd be more…unreasonable. Otherwise, we wouldn't have staged this little intervention of sorts."

"Damn," Emmett sighed. "And to think I could be somewhere else right now." Alice smacked him firmly on the back of the head with a disapproving sneer. "What?" he asked foolishly. "What did I say?" Alice ignored him, shaking her head.

"Emmett, language," Carlisle chastised, turning back to me. "Now, back on subject. This is something I think I have to put my foot down over. I know that just recently, you and I have…reestablished our relationship. I know that you don't owe me any favors, but I'm still your father and you're still my son." He paused for a beat, shifting awkwardly in his seat. "Edward…I…_we're _all here for you. We've been dealt a rough hand, and we're going to live with it. But we're all here. Don't feel like you need to hide from us anymore, because we want to help you. And I think that I speak for all of us when I say that we're well-equipped to handle dealing with tragedy." He choked out one dry laugh.

I swallowed back a lump in my throat, a sudden wave of anger coming over me.

"I appreciate all this, Dad, but I can't exactly agree with you."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, trying to keep his voice smooth. I turned to Emmett, who was still beside me, and to Alice who was seated next to him.

"Well," I began, "all false pretenses excluded, I'm sort of fucking put out with you two." Alice's eyebrows shot up, and I heard Esme gasp.

"Who, me?" Emmett asked at the same time Alice squealed, "What did I do?"

Fuck. I didn't really want to do this. It had been in the back of my mind for almost two months now, kicking my brain around like a damn soccer ball. I didn't want to be there at the table, my family sitting around me with concerned faces like I was some sort of alcoholic on fucking A&E.

"I don't want to talk about this right now," I said stubbornly. "Can't this wait?"

"No, son," Carlisle answered. "I don't think it can."

Once again, he was right. It was just as good of any time as ever, and I knew that I needed to take advantage of it.

"You honestly don't know?" I asked, my voice squeaking. _Damn it_.

Emmett shrugged, his bulging shoulders lifting up to his earlobes as Alice continued to stare at me with an open mouth.

"Jesus, people. I didn't know I'd have to fucking spell it out for you." I raked a hand through my hair, pulling through the tangles with my fingertips.

"Language, Edward," Carlisle reprimanded softly.

"Ever since this…_situation_ happened, we've all been on the same page," I continued, ignoring him. "We've all found our common ground, and we're all working through the same thing. Alice, you always hated how Emmett and me always left you out. You always got mad when we didn't let you play with us, remember? And Emmett, you were always jealous that Al and I are twins. You felt excluded because you didn't have one, too, and you were upset that you had to have a birthday all alone when me and Alice had each other, right?" Emmett frowned at his recollection, Alice sighing and putting her cheek into her palm.

"Emmett, I was always jealous of you and Dad. I was mad that he always liked you better, always treated you better because you were his first son. I got jealous that he gave you an internship and not me. And Alice…Mom _talks _to you. She bonds with you differently than she ever could with me or Em. And Dad fucking worships you. I know you don't realize it, but it's true. So here we are, all fucking envying each other." I wrung my fingers nervously below the table as Carlisle looked on with sadness in his eyes.

"Edward, I never knew you felt that way," Carlisle said quietly, his eyes falling to his lap. "I mean, I suppose I did, but I thought we'd moved past this."

"Just let me finish," I piped up, realizing that I had to speak my claim before fucking up just one more thing to add to my list. "I'm not saying any of this shit to make anyone feel sorry for me or make anyone pissed off. I'm just saying that before all of this happened, we were all just mad at each other. Alice, you were mad because I was always going through your shit and telling Jasper about that thing with Mike Newton and stuff. And Emmett, we were always close, but there was still that barrier between us because I felt second best to you. Jesus, I sound like a pussy. But after we all found out about Dad…it's kind of like…I dunno, gravity moved or something like that. It's hard to explain. Suddenly, there wasn't competition between us. We were all wallowing in self-pity, all of us dealing with our shit both separately and together at the same time. It sucked, yeah, but at least we were _equals_."

"We still _are_, Edward," Alice argued, her eyes narrowing into slits. "What, do you think that my life is all sunshine and rainbows? If that's what you think, then you need a lobotomy."

"You're not getting it, Alice!" I hissed through clenched teeth, tugging my hand away from my mother's. Alice was being a bitch, her eyes flitting to her damned cell phone every two seconds, and I was trying to make a point. "Don't try and make it sound like I'm the only one who thought things got better between us. I mean, you got Jasper, and Em got Rose. And I got…" I struggled to say the name out loud. "I got Bella. I mean…I don't have her anymore. But I used to. And things got better." I sucked in a shaky breath, and Esme's hand slipped back into mine.

"But then, something changed. I don't know what, but suddenly, you guys weren't around anymore. I don't know what it was, but all of the sudden, you were depending on _them_ more than we depended on each other. I…I'm...I'm not trying to get pity or sympathy. But what I'm trying to say is that I couldn't _tell _Bella. Bella didn't know. So I had _nothing_." I paused again to take another breath, trying to steady my shaking voice. "But she knows now, and I guess that's over. Fuck, I sound stupid. Please don't get me wrong—I'm glad that we all had other people to talk to about everything. I had Bella, but it would have been nice to have both of you, too."

We all sat in utter silence before anyone spoke again. My chest rose and fell violently.

"God, Ed," Emmett muttered. His voice was filled with emotion, fat tears rolling down his broad cheeks. I hadn't seen Emmett cry since we were very small, not even through everything that had been happening. The sight of him, with his cheeks flushed and hot tears slipping from his jaw, scared me. I stared at him with wide eyes as he sputtered. "I am so sorry, Edward." He lowered his head into his hands, propping his elbows up on the table. I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

Emmett choked out a few sobs before attempting to pull himself back together, blinking away the tears as he pulled his fingers through his dark hair. "I am so sorry," he repeated. "I should have been here for you, I should have--,"

"That's another thing," I interrupted. "I'm fucked up right now, I get it. Otherwise, we wouldn't be here. I've been moping around all week like I'm dying or something. We've all said that we need to grow up. We keep saying it and saying it and nothing's fucking changing. We still act like we're little kids, feeling sorry for ourselves. Jesus, I'm having like, a fucking epiphany right now." My eyes widened as I collected my bearings, realizing what my subconscious mind had just revealed. "We need to stop blaming ourselves," I said quietly, thinking the sentence over in my head as the truth consolidated itself. "We need to stop blaming ourselves," I repeated. "This…this isn't our fault."

_This isn't my fault_.

"This _is _my fault, Edward. I left you behind. I swore to myself that I wouldn't." Emmett hiccupped loudly, turning to Carlisle. "I swore to _you _that I would be strong for you, for everybody. But I messed up. I messed up bad."

Carlisle smiled sadly, scratching the side of his head where his hair used to be. "Emmett, I have never been more proud of you then I am right now. You haven't let me down, not in any way, shape, or form." The two of them looked at each other for a moment, the admiration in Carlisle's eyes burning into the yearning of Emmett's.

I heard Esme make some weird gurgling sound, and turned to see that she too was crying. _Great_.

"Sorry," she choked, smiling slightly. "I don't mean to get all emotional. But I'm a mother, and this is the sort of Hallmark thing that all mothers love to see." I squeezed her hand, laughing in spite of the intensity of the moment.

"I love you, man," Emmett blubbered, wrapping one, huge arm around my neck and squeezing me. "Anytime you need me, I promise I'll be here." I knew he meant it, but I wanted to save that conversation for later when it was just the two of us.

"Can't…breathe…" I choked, desperately trying to lighten the mood. He released me, chuckling gently as Esme and Carlisle joined in.

"Edward," Alice piped up, her face still hard. "I understand that you've just had a come-to-Jesus moment, but this still doesn't fix things with Bella." _Ah, Team Bella_.

_Swan-1. Cullen-0._

"Why thanks for the helpful reminder, Dear Sister," I spat, tearing my hand away from my mother's. The sound of Emmett blowing his nose noisily into a napkin broke the tension, but only for an instant.

"What's going on with that, Edward?" Carlisle asked softly, a crease forming in his forehead. "I suppose that that's the whole reason we're here in the first place."

I cleared my throat, the lump forming once again in my throat. My chest tightened, the feelings of assurance and progress of the last several minutes leaving as swiftly as they came.

"It's, uh…It's over." The words lingered in the air, hollow, true, and unwavering.

"Has she called? Texted? Anything?" Esme's voice was colored with concern. She loved Bella almost as much as she loved seeing me happy, and it had worked out perfectly for her when the first was the reason for the latter.

"Nope," Alice answered for me. I wanted to smack her. "She hasn't spoken to him at all since last Monday, and I don't think that she intends to."

"So you're talking to her?" I growled, anger building.

"Well, yeah, Edward. She told me everything. Just because you can't handle adult situations doesn't mean I can't be friends with her anymore." I had a brief daydream of jumping over Emmett's lap and strangling her or cutting holes in one of her precious handbags or some shit like that.

"Wow, Alice, that's cute. I love how _civil _and _reasonable _you're being, especially since _you're_ the one who fucking told her in the first place."

"Edward, language!" Carlisle scolded for what seemed like the fiftieth time in ten minutes. "And Alice, what is he talking about?" His blonde eyebrows furrowed, his formerly sad eyes hardening.

"Nothing," Alice muttered, crossing her arms over her chest childishly. Emmett blew his nose again. Esme uncrossed her legs, picking invisible lint from her blouse awkwardly.

"Bullshit," I spat. "Bull-fucking-shit."

"You don't know anything!" Alice hollered, shoving out of her seat. "You have your head shoved too far up your own ass to know anything at all!"

"Chill, Alice," Emmett ordered, putting a hand on her shoulder and pushing her back into her chair.

"Oh, yeah? I don't know anything?" I challenged. "It doesn't sound so complicated to me. Bella asked, you spilled. You promised you wouldn't tell, and when I asked you if you had, you said—wait, no, you _promised_—that you hadn't. You're a snitch, Alice. You're the main reason that I'm so fucked up right now."

Alice opened her mouth to yell before Carlisle held up a hand between us. "Stop, stop, stop." He ordered. "We're not going to scream at one another, because that's not why we're here. We're here because we were worried about you, Edward, and we're going to speak like civilized people. Alice, you will not yell at your brother. And Edward, if you say the word 'fuck,' 'shit,' or 'damn' one more time, I'm taking the Volvo away."

I snapped my mouth shut as Emmett chuckled softly, sniffling.

"Alright?" Carlisle asked when neither of us argued. I nodded stiffly.

"Sure, whatever," Alice grumbled, rolling her eyes.

"Okay," Carlisle said, extracting his palm from between us, "then continue."

I was the first to break the ice, naturally.

"Okay, Alice. Let's start off this civilized, polite conversation by asking why the f—sorry, Carlisle. I meant to say, why the _heck_ you felt so inclined to tell Bella all of my business?" My fingers clenched the edge of the table as I fought the urge to choke a bitch.

"It's not just _your_ business, Edward. Technically, it's mine, too. And Bella had the right to know." She sniffed condescendingly, flipping her phone open to read some stupid fucking text message because she knew it would piss me off. "Honestly, you can't be mad at me," she continued. "She would find out eventually."

"No!" I hollered, standing to my feet and scooting my chair out from under me with a loud scrape. "No, no, no! You don't know what you're talking about, Alice! You telling her about Dad ruined everything! Every single thing I've been working for is completely messed up now."

"Oh yeah?" she snapped. "What happened to your little _none of this is any of our faults_ speech? Maybe you should learn to practice what you preach, dick wad."

"Edward, you hadn't already told her?" Carlisle asked. I ignored him as if he hadn't spoken.

"Well maybe _you_ should learn to _listen_ instead of just buying clothes and having phone sex with your little boyfriend, _Alice_," I retorted, my voice cracking. "If you'd been _listening_, you would have known that I was talking about not blaming ourselves for Dad being _sick_, not about my relationship problems."

"Your _relationship_?" she laughed. "Technically, Edward, you don't have one of those anymore."

Her statement hit me like a block of cement. I fell silent, mentally cursing myself for crumbling so easily beneath her words. But they were true, and I knew it. Bella wasn't with me anymore. It didn't matter now that Alice told her, because it was irrevocable. It happened, and I couldn't change it. Bella was gone, and all the fucking blaming couldn't change that.

Alice fumed for a few minutes, her breathing returning to normal. My gaze remained in my lap, my chest heavy.

"I'm sorry," she whispered after a few moments more. "I shouldn't have said that."

"S'okay," I replied. "It's true, I guess."

"I know. But that still doesn't make it okay."

Carlisle, Esme, and Emmett remained perfectly silent. Only the sound of Emmett's sniffling and the feel of Esme's hand around my wrist reminded me that there were other people in the room other than Alice and I.

"Even if you hadn't told her, she would still have to find out eventually," I said, sighing. I looked up from my lap to Alice, her chin quivering and her green eyes filled with tears. I was just making _everyone_ cry, apparently.

"But I still should have been patient and asked you first. I should have respected you enough to…God, Edward, I'm sorry. I suck." She pulled her knees up to her chin, wrapping her arms around them tightly.

"Yeah, you're right. You do suck," I snickered, ducking slightly to avoid her flying ballet flat as she tossed it at my head. "So I guess you and I are back to throwing shoes, huh?"

"Duty calls," she laughed, waving her other shoe in her hand and straightening in her chair. "But, in all seriousness, is there any way that we can, like, start over? Like, can we go back to when you still did me favors and we still talked when we drove to school?"

"Yeah, I think I can arrange something," I said, smiling crookedly. "Just…don't do anything like that again, okay? Because I'm willing to forgive you now, but you're on probation. I'm still mad as hell."

"I promise," she swore. "And I won't break this one this time." We looked at each other for a few beats as my parents watched us with content.

"Do you want to talk about what happened, Edward?" Carlisle asked. "Between you and Bella, I mean. Alice told us the gist, but only enough details to get us off your case for the week." That had been because of Alice? Maybe I owed her more than I thought.

"Honestly," I began, "not really. I just need to figure shit out on my own, Dad."

He decided to let my choice word slip before nodding in approval. "If that's what you think is best." Esme's rubbed my wrist once more with her thumb before pushing out of her chair.

"I think you'd all agree when I say that this has been emotionally toiling, to say the least." She smoothed her caramel-colored hair with her palm, checking for any smeared mascara with the other hand. "To sum it all up, Edward, we're sticking together from now on. Things are just going to get a little harder, and we needed this."

"We did," Carlisle agreed. "We did."

"You're okay, right Dad?" Emmett squeaked, leaning forward slightly.

"For right now, I'm doing well. It's tough, sure, but we'll talk all about it later. Right now, I'm happier than I've been in a long time, and all my kids are sorting things out. I can't really complain." He smiled, the grin touching his eyes. "But, Edward, is everything okay with you now? We didn't mean to ambush you, honestly. We were just-,"

"Concerned," I interrupted. "I get it. And no, not everything is okay, but I feel like things are starting to work out. Even if stuff with Bella doesn't work out, which I highly doubt it will, I need to try and find something else to think about." I could feel my face fall, and I knew that I was trying too hard to be nonchalant. The thought of being without Bella was crippling, and I knew that even though things would definitely _not _be better, I had to pretend like they would be.

"Remember what I said when I told you we'd all be here. I meant that."

"I know."

He watched me for the briefest second before following Esme out of the kitchen, leaving me with my brother and sister. Emmett drew in a deep breath, glancing at me with bloodshot eyes. He clapped me on the shoulder, clearing his throat as he rose from his chair. He didn't speak, and I knew that he didn't in fear of what his voice would sound like if he did. He threw me a crooked smile that looked very much like my own before leaving the kitchen just as my mom and dad had.

"So..." Alice said softly, twirling her thumbs. "This is awkward."

"You can drop it, Alice. I'm trying to forget about it." I couldn't help it that my voice had the slightest trace of anger in it.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. If it will help at all, I won't talk to Bella anymore." My eyes widened as I met her gaze.

"You would do that? For me, I mean?"

"Of course," she said without skipping a beat. "You're my brother." Her words, spoken without any sort of hesitation whatsoever, filled my chest with a foreign emotion. I felt...touched? Yeah, that was it. I was touched. Alice, as heartless and cold as she could be, meant every word that she said.

"You don't have to do that for me," I said sheepishly. "I guess Bella didn't really do anything to me, after all. She doesn't deserve that."

"Well, actually, she did lie to you. And then she conned you into screwing her _after _she lied to you, and after _that _she left and didn't call you for, like, three days, and then-,"

"She told you all of that?" I gasped.

"Edward," Alice replied patiently, as if I were a small child, "there are a lot of things that you don't understand about women. We tell each other everything. This includes what we ate for breakfast, to what we bought at the mall, to every minor detail of our sexual encounters. Girls have no secrets."

I knew I should have been angry, or embarrassed, but I guess I was too shocked to feel anything. "Just promise that you'll never decide to tell me all about you and Jasper," I choked out. "Because, no offense, but he is one nasty motherfucker. Emmett will probably never let that shit go." Alice laughed one hard laugh before silence fell over us again. I sat there quietly before Alice interrupted my thoughts.

"You still love her, don't you?" she asked, her voice as light as a whisper.

I hesitated before answering. "Yeah."

"And you miss her," she stated.

"Like hell."

She sat there thoughtfully before speaking again.

"It's not too late, Edward. I know her. All is not lost." She reached over to pat my forearm lightly, her eyebrows pulling together. "Just don't give up."

"I think it's done, Alice. I don't think there's anything I can do."

"If you keep thinking that way, then, yeah, it is done. But you've got to grow up, Edward. You always say that. You say that you need to grow up all the time, that we all do. And you're right. You need to grow the fuck up. You need to grow the fuck up and win Bella back. Believe me when I say that it's not too late." Her voice was stern, her plump lips tightened into a hard line. She reminded me so much of Esme in that moment that I had to fight not to smile.

"I'll try," I muttered, scratching my neck. My head was spinning and I didn't want to talk about Bella anymore. I knew it was a bad thing to have hope, because, ultimately, it would all just be shoved back in my face. I had learned throughout the course of my life that that was what happened when I had hope about something.

"Hell yeah, you'll try," she persisted. "Just don't fucking give up. You'll regret it." And at that, she glided from the kitchen. I sat in the stillness of the room, the quiet hum of the refrigerator playing softly in the background.

_It's not too late, Edward. I know her. All is not lost._

Alice's words were haunting me. Although I knew not to believe her, part of me couldn't help it. I'd found just one glimmer of chance, and, as stupid as it was, I was holding onto that. I wanted Bella back more than anything. I'd lied, and she'd lied, and we'd said things to each other that we could never take back. I should have hated her, but I couldn't. Because I loved her. I loved her, and I wanted her.

I wanted Bella. And I was going to do anything that I possibly could to get her back.

*

The rest of the night crawled by at a glacial pace. Carlisle had holed himself up in his study, the door still off its hinges, and Esme ran off to her room to watch Lifetime or some shit like that. Alice had backed off after our little heart-to-heart, probably to give me some space to think. I knew Emmett still felt awful. I hadn't expected him to cry like that, and I almost wished that I had waited to talk to him about my abandonment issues. I knew I'd have to address them again later, but in front of our family in that situation just wasn't the right time.

Everyone had backed away from me after the intervention, and my room was lonelier than ever.

I wanted Bella there with me. I wanted her presence in the room, to feel the warmth of her in my arms. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted the softness of her lips on mine and I wanted to tell her that even though she didn't need me anymore, that _I_ needed _her_. I had no idea how I could even get her to talk to me. I had initially had no plans of returning to school the following day, but I knew now that I would have to suck it up and go. Hope gave me nothing but dust in the end. But now, I felt a little more than just hope. I felt need, I felt luck, and I felt fucking optimism. I felt trust. I felt _relevance_. If it just bit me in the ass in the end, I would have nothing more to lose than I already had.

I crawled beneath my sheets, closing my eyes only to see Bella's staring back at me. I knew they would be there, but they shocked me every time I saw them without fail. I did something I rarely did as I lay there, letting sleep consume me. I prayed. I prayed, even though I was the shittiest person alive, that I could stop blaming myself. I knew blame was most stupid fucking thing ever invented, and it was ruining my life. I prayed that Bella wouldn't hate me, and that she'd listen to what I had to say. I prayed that I could change. I prayed that I grow up, that my father could get better, that my brother and my sister would stay close like they'd promised. I felt stupid, but I did it anyway. Because maybe, just maybe, it would work.

I was on the verge of unconsciousness when a noise startled me into coherence. A dark form stood in my doorway, silently and cautiously.

"Edward?" Carlisle whispered into the empty space of my bedroom. "Are you awake?"

"Yes," I grumbled, rubbing my eyes and reaching over to switch my lamp on. I sat up to meet his eyes, my eyes squinting into the painful light.

"Sorry to wake you," he said apologetically. "You usually aren't asleep this early."

"Rough day," I laughed dryly, wrapping my comforter around my shoulders.

"Yes, you're right," he agreed, shifting his weight from foot to foot with anxiousness. "I, um, I should let you get back to sleep. You'll be returning to school tomorrow, right? So you need your sleep, I suppose."

"Just spit it out, Dad," I ordered, irritation thick in my tone. "What do you need? There has to be a reason you came in here." He nodded once.

"You're right. I came here to...I came here to ask something of you."

"And that is..."

"I came here to ask...well, I came to ask you if you'll take me somewhere." His lips mashed together as his eyes swam with question.

"You have a car, don't you?" I countered, rubbing my eyes with my knuckles.

"That's not what I meant. I mean...will you take me to your place? I want you to take me to your house, Edward. That one in the woods. I want you to take me to that house on Friday."

I waited as I comprehended his words, going back over them in my head to make sure I'd heard them right.

"You...you want me to take you to the house? Why?" My voice, which had been hoarse with sleep, was now high and alert. I sounded like a fucking woman.

"Because I want to go there. I want to see it, Edward." I shook my head with disbelief, and he seemed to construe the gesture as defiance. "Edward, as your father, I insist that you take me there. I've canceled all of my plans for that day, and that's when we're going to go. Okay? Alright. That's that. Goodnight."

He closed the door before I had a chance to answer him.

**A/N: a loophole for less angst! i'm getting a little bit suffocated, i don't know about you all. i'll be wrapping this up in the next six or seven chapters, so review your little heads off. i've been posting this all over the place, and i'm just not getting that big of a response. still, thanks to all who do, and i love you all. one, big, cute, crying emmett to all of my homegirls who keep it real. **


	19. The Justice League

**A/N: a new chapter! this has minimal angst, which might make some of you happy. i really enjoyed writing this for some reason. probably because there's a lot of jasper in it. but read and enjoy!**  
song: **pony by erin mccarley**

**BPOV**

"Hey, Bella, what's up?" Alice's voice chirped from the other end of the line. She had been calling and calling every single day for two weeks now. I needed to start screening the caller I.D. Not that I minded chatting with Alice, but every time I answered the phone she had nothing really important to talk to me about. I sighed.

"Hi, Alice. I'm not really doing anything. Nothing new has happened since last time you called, which was exactly an hour ago." My tone was monotonous, and I knew I needed to inject a little enthusiasm into my voice to keep Alice somewhat content.

"Cool," she said quickly, as if she hadn't heard me at all. "Well, the reason I'm calling is to ask you if you're busy. Jasper's dropping by your house to borrow a…um…your Chemistry book."

"My Chem book?" I asked skeptically. "But Jasper's a senior, Alice."

"Not for him, for me," she clarified. "I never turned that project in last week and I've left my book at school. You don't mind, right?"

"I guess not," I said. "When will you guys be here?"

She paused for a minute, and I thought maybe she accidentally hung up. "Actually, Jasper's coming alone. I just, uh, painted my nails. I can't drive with wet toes. You know, what with there being a law about driving shoe-less. Charlie's probably taught you _all_ about that."

"There's such a thing called flip-flops, Alice," I laughed, twirling a strand of hair around my pointer finger mindlessly.

"It's _December_, Bella," she scoffed. "What, do you want me catching pneumonia?"

"I'll talk to you later," I said tolerantly, ignoring her rambling. I had been out of school, and I was wasting homework time talking with her on the telephone. We said our goodbyes, and I sighed as I ended the call. Alice had been over quite a bit lately. Even though I hated to admit it, her energy kept me grounded. She was the little, chipper ray of sunshine that I needed to keep my sanity, and every time she was around, I felt like I had a little piece of Edward with me. It sounded stupid—probably because it _was_—but it was true.

The days I'd been without him were hell. Absolute, total, _burning_ hell. I missed him. I could have concocted lines of poetic metaphors describing exactly _how_ I missed him, but in my heart I knew that those three words were adequate enough. I missed him, and I loved him. Having his sister around so often reminded me that he wasn't mine anymore, but it was still comforting. It felt nice to know that not _everyone _in the Cullen family wanted me dead.

Alice swore that everything was fine. She even said that things would get better eventually, although I highly doubted that. Edward had been gone for a week while I was still going to school regularly, and that made things even worse. Knowing that I was the reason he was hiding killed me. His words echoed in my mind like a broken record, stabbing me a little less gently every time. But as the time did pass—and pass, it did—my wounds started to heal. Sort of. The look on his face when he told me he hated me, the tone of his voice when he called me a slut…it all hurt a little less each time I remembered it. Maybe because all along I knew that he didn't truly mean it. Maybe time would heal the wounds completely, not scarring, but just completely healing as if there'd never been a wound in the first place. Maybe. But I knew things could never be the same. Alice would always be there--that was a fact. Her initial aversion to me was completely null and void now, and she was seemingly super-glued to my hip. Her perkiness was no longer an annoyance, as I pretended it was, but a rather profound blessing. I clung to her, hoping that maybe if I did, Edward would come back to me. Or at least come back to school.

*

My walk of shame from Edward's bedroom, with the feel of him still on the insides of my thighs, started the tears all over again. I tried with everything I had to stifle my hysteric sobbing, shoving my knuckles into my mouth as the tears clouded my vision. I'd tiptoed past Alice's room, nearly sprinting down the stairs trying to make a beeline for the door. And that's when I saw her.

Esme.

She stood in her open doorway, looking beautiful in a freesia-colored blouse, a look of complete pity evident on her features.

"Sweetheart, do you--," she began.

I threw up a hand to stop her as I continued walking, a sob ripping through my chest. "Stop," I meant to scream, but it came out as a broken whisper. "I can't do this." I wished that her face had been the last thing I saw as I threw open the heavy front door. But instead, it was the hook with my name above it written on Scotch tape, empty and never to be taken by one of my coats again.

I almost didn't make it home before collapsing on my bedroom floor, exactly where Edward had tumbled to the ground after the first time he'd crawled through my window.

*

The next Monday rolled by after I walked out of Edward's life. I sat in my chair in the coldness of the classroom, the fluorescents pounding on the white, expansive desktop that stretched in front of me. I stared at his empty seat on my right, the thickness in my chest building as I bit heavily down on my lip. Six days, and still nothing.

Alice would rub my shoulder when she passed me in the hall, Jasper giving me little reassuring smiles. Emmett, however, was a different story. He stared at me with hateful eyes from across the lunch table, Rose at his side with an identical expression. Emmett was usually so friendly and sweet that the sneer he consistently wore in my presence looked like it belonged to someone else. I guess I deserved it. I _had_ hurt his only brother, the one who had to watch his younger sibling waste away in his bedroom because his flaky high school girlfriend had chosen to deceive him. Edward had screamed and yelled and pushed me away, but if at any second he chose to take them back, I'd be in his arms again. But Emmett would never know that, and neither would Rosalie. I would just keep betting on Alice.

I stayed home Tuesday. I hadn't planned on it, but for some reason, when I woke up that morning, I knew school was out of the question. Mike Newton in my English class was continually edging his seat closer and closer to mine, and it was damn annoying. I had no idea how the moron even tested into an AP class, but it was further evidence that the odds were stacked against me. Alice looked on sympathetically as I sat alone. Lunch was hellish now that Emmett had decided that he hated me, and Rosalie's eyes were enough to make me suddenly need a trip to the bathroom. I worried that the day I decided to stay home would be the day Edward would finally return, but the warmth of my bed Tuesday morning was too much to resist. I knew that if I could sleep a little while longer, maybe I could avoid something.

That something was a new picture that I saw, without fail, every single goddamn time I closed my eyes.

It was Edward. Or rather, not Edward in his entirety, but just one part of him. I saw his _eyes_. The perfect green of his eyes were branded on the backs of my eyelids ever since the day I ran from his front porch, and nothing was helping. I couldn't tell Alice, because she'd either laugh at me or feel sorry for me. It was beyond embarrassing. If Edward hadn't been skipping school, I would have assumed that he was already over the whole thing. I was certain that he didn't have weird, creepy hallucinations of me every time he blinked. But I did, and I had to deal with it. Tuesday, the day that I stayed away from Forks High School, was the day that Jasper came by.

"Hey, Bella!" he chirped enthusiastically when I answered the door. It was so unlike him, so…_happy_, that I knew it was something Alice had put him up to.

"Um, hi, Jasper," I mumbled, scratching my head with confusion. "Alice mentioned you were stopping by."

He pushed past my arm that I stretched across the doorway and over the threshold, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it over the stair railing. "Yeah, I know," he babbled nervously. "She mentioned something about, um, a bottle of hairspray? No, that wasn't it. A copy of _Moby Dick_? Damn it, that's not it either."

"A Chemistry book," I said, helping him. "She needs my Chemistry book."

"Yes, that was it, I think," he stuttered, wiping his brow with one hand. He shifted awkwardly in place, moving his weight from one foot to the other. Just the way he moved made me anxious, and I wondered what was wrong. His rambling about hair spray and English literature confirmed my suspicions. Obviously he and Alice had been over exactly how he was going to gain entry into my house, coming up with several options.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on, Jasper?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He exhaled a gust of warm, tobacco-scented air, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark trademark straight-legged jeans. "About?"

"Oh, come _on_," I whined. "You know what I'm talking about. I'm not stupid, and you're sweating like hell. Tell me what's going on."

"I promised I wouldn't tell…"

"You and I both know that shit will hit the fan eventually. Alice has been calling me around forty-three times per second. I know something's up, and it's only a matter of time before I find out."

Jasper paced, darting in and out of the kitchen, a torn look on his face. His wet sneakers squeaked loudly against the linoleum. "Bella, she'll kill me," he pleaded, his blonde brows knitting together.

"Secrets aren't really doing any of us any good, are they?" I countered. He stopped in his tracks, a sadness taking over his face as he looked at me with the same damn sympathy that everyone was looking at me with. He looked just like Esme had when I passed her to drive home, sans purple blouse and caramel high-lights.

"I guess not," he muttered, looking to his feet. A moment of silence passed as I watched him deliberate. "Okay, fine!" he blurted, and I felt myself smiling.

"Let's sit," I invited, gesturing to the tiny kitchen table big enough for just Charlie and me. He smiled hesitantly, folding his lanky frame into a little wooden chair across from mine. I pulled my knees towards my chin, wrapping my arms around them as I waited for him to speak.

He looked at me, obviously thinking I would initiate the conversation, and getting flustered when I didn't. "Um, okay, let's see…" Pause. "You want to know why I'm here? Is that it?"

"What do you think?" I said, heavy on the sarcasm. I felt bad for being so blunt with the kid, because I knew that he was just serving as Alice's little minion and not acting on his own.

"Okay…the abridged or full length version?"

"Do you have time to tell me all of it?"

"I think I could make some," he said earnestly.

"Alright, fine. Lay it on me."

"I'm just going to tell you the objective rather than get into detail about all of Alice's schemes. You know how she can be." Rather than sounding spiteful, his voice as he spoke of Alice was tolerant and almost reverent. "Just promise you won't get mad or cry or anything?"

"You're freaking me out, Jasper," I said with caution, straightening in my seat.

"No, no, no. Don't be worried. It's just that Alice…well, you know how she gets. She, uh, she feels really guilty."

"For what?"

"For what happened. With you. And Edward."

"Oh," I said, my face dropping. "I see."

"Don't be upset!" he said quickly, leaning towards me slightly before drawing back again. "I wasn't supposed to come here and make you sulky or anything like that. Now get this, Alice wants to find a loophole."

"A loophole?" I asked skeptically.

"Yeah. She sort of commissioned me to be in her _Justice League_ or whatever. She wants to try and get you and Ed back together." He looked pleased with himself, leaning back in his chair with a lazy smile. But his expression changed as he watched mine.

"This is none of your concern," I spat, my cheeks flaming. "You and Alice can't just run my life for me. It's over. It's dead, and Edward and I are never going to be together. So stop giving me hope when there isn't any in the first place."

"So you have hope?" he asked, grinning. The boy was relentless. Alice was really rubbing off on him.

"It's a closed book, Jasper."

"I don't believe that."

"_You_ don't? Or _Alice_ doesn't?"

He sighed, shifting in his chair. "Okay, look. When I first signed onto this project, I was pissed. I was manipulated into it. Alice wouldn't help me get my rocks off unless I promised. Sorry, that was gross. But anyway, now things are different. I _want_ to help you."

"And why is that?" I asked.

"Because you're my friend, Bell," he answered quietly. "I mean, I consider you one. We don't talk often or anything like that. But you help my girl. You're what I can't be for her, you know? Anyone that helps my girl is a friend of mine."

"Jasper, I…" I trailed off. I had never known that Jasper Hale even gave me the time of day, and through my frustration, I couldn't help but be touched.

"Don't get mushy on me, please. I can't handle anymore of that than I already have." His smiled crookedly, his blue eyes dancing. "But Edward's a mess, Bella. He really is. Al says you think that he doesn't care one way or another, but you should see the kid."

"What's wrong with him?" I yelped, the vision of his broken green eyes clear in my mind.

"He's…he's a basket case. Like, really. Picture, like, Hilary Swank in that movie after Gerard Butler dies. That's Edward, in female form."

"_P.S., I Love You_? Really, Jasper?" I laughed, covering my sadness with a joke.

"It's all Alice, I swear," he chuckled, his face falling into a serious stare after his laughter died. "But honestly, Bella. He needs you. You need him. And neither of you have the balls to do something about it, so I'm here to help."

"I doubt that this was what Alice meant to happen. She probably would have used a little bit more discretion," I said.

"She didn't come because she knew she'd ruin everything. I was supposed to play a little game with your head to trick you into meeting up with him or something like that, but I don't do that kind of shit," he answered, his voice thick.

"I can't do this," I whispered. I could feel the tears coming, and I didn't try to bite them back. "I can't do this anymore, Jasper."

"Yes! Yes, you can! Don't you get it?" I couldn't see his face, but his voice was loud and trilling. "Bella, don't be stupid. You _want_ Edward. Edward's a mess without you. He looks like hell. You both said things you didn't mean, and you just need time to heal. So _heal_. Stop talking about it and just do it for yourself."

I looked up slowly, shocked by the wisdom of his words. Jasper was usually so relatively calm, deep beneath the surface but otherwise smooth on the outside. He had a temper, sure, but I had rarely seen it since Alice was around him. But now, as he spoke to me, his words were so harsh and so abrasive and so fucking _true_ that it shocked me. "You're…you're right," I sighed, meeting his eyes.

"I know I am," he answered, smiling in a way that was reassuring rather than condescending. "Let me help. I swear I won't let you down."

My faint smile straightened. "No. You're right. I need to heal. But I can't have you and Alice doing my dirty work for me."

"Fine, then," he muttered, his face hard. "I'm going to help you, Bella. I'm not trying to take your will away, but I know that this is right. I'm going to help, and you can't do anything about it."

"Jasper--,"

"See you later, Bella," he said, walking out of the kitchen.

I followed him.

"And, Bella?" he asked, throwing open the storm door.

"What?" I spat. "What more do you want? You're already trying to fuck up my life more so than it already is."

"I just wanted to tell you that you should probably come back to school now. Edward's coming back tomorrow."

And then he was gone. And he didn't even take my Chemistry book with him.

**APOV**

I had no idea what I was going to do with Edward.

He'd been flittering around all week, pounding me for details about Bella whenever he wasn't crying and moping in his room, and I continually lied to him. "I have no idea what you're talking about," I'd answer before going back to avoiding him like I had been. In all honesty, I felt bad for him. I would be willing to bet my Balenciaga that it was a pride thing. Most boys beat each other up and then shared a beer. But my brothers…well, they were always a bit more dramatic. But I guess that ultimately it was all my fault, anyway, so I had no room to judge.

After the intervention, Edward and I had finally made up with each other. That night, after Jasper took me to dinner, I decided that once and for all, I would do something for Edward that would make his life better. He was perpetually digging a hole in the center of the only chance at something good that he had, and I couldn't let him do it any longer. But I knew that, at least for now, I had to avoid him. I had a big mouth, and I knew that he wouldn't be any happier about my involvement in his issues than Bella would be.

We all sat together at the island every morning before school, Edward sulking and Emmett trying his very hardest to ignore his brooding brother. It was beyond ridiculous. Esme tried to get away from the thick layering of tension that hovered over the three of us as soon as she was finished serving breakfast, and I really couldn't blame her. But we couldn't complain, because Edward had been skipping meals altogether until everyone had gone to bed, and we were thankful that he was at least joining us for breakfast. I would finish up and leave for school, as would Emmett, but Edward just climbed the stairs to his room again and hid underneath his covers until dinnertime.

*

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," I whined to Jasper as we drove to school on Wednesday morning. I had volunteered to pick him up this morning after Edward had promised he'd come in second hour with Esme's car. "What if he doesn't show? What if _she_ doesn't show?"

"Don't worry," Jasper replied. "I talked to her. She'll come. The only thing I'm worried about is Edward. You didn't tell him Bella's coming back, did you?"

"No," I sighed, crossing my ankles. "Poor kid has no idea what the hell is going on. I knew that I couldn't tell him. He'd chicken out."

"Maybe you should just…tell him, Al."

"What? No! That's insane! He'll move to Antarctica." He snickered at my stubbornness, cracking the window to torch up a cigarette. The wind seeped in violently, making the warmth of the Volvo suddenly uncomfortable.

"This is going to get messy, I'm telling you. Especially since Rose is involved, and you know that she's not one to hold back." He ran a hand through his wild mane of hair, blowing a stream of smoke through the open window.

"She wouldn't say anything, would she? It's not her business. She doesn't even know what's going on with Edward."

"I beg to differ, little lady. Didn't you mention something about talking to Emmett about everything last Monday night after everything hit the fan?" I drew in a shaky breath. _Shit_. I had. Emmett now knew basically everything about the situation at hand, especially since I had really no one else to talk to now that I was avoiding Edward and walking on eggshells with Bella. That Saturday--the morning after she, er, threw herself at Edward-- as I drove her home, I had tried to meddle a little, but she just tensed up and started stuttering uncomfortably. I only had Em and Jasper now, further proving that I had to fix things, and fast.

"I guess if Emmett's mad at Bella, then naturally Rose would be, too," I mumbled to myself. Jasper laughed at my scowl, pushing my hair away from my face as he balanced his cigarette between his lips.

"She misses you, Al," he said softly, resting one arms across the back of my seat. "You should call her. She knows everything anyway, so you wouldn't have to lie." I recoiled at his words. "You know that I'm not insinuating that you lie often," he corrected himself hurriedly. "I'm just saying that she's an insider, too."

I knew that I needed to make an effort with my oldest friend. Ever since we'd made up, we talked on the phone every so often, but not enough to constitute as maintaining a real friendship. "I'm sorry my family is forcing our problems onto yours, Jazz. We don't mean to interfere." He smoothed my hair against my neck tenderly.

"Don't say that kind of shit. You know I'm here for you through whatever. I'll do whatever you need." His blue eyes swam with emotion as he gazed at me, his sincerity building tension in my tear ducts. Jesus, everyone was always fucking crying. I needed to lighten the mood, before I ruined another one of his shirts.

"Whatever I need?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded hesitantly at my words, his lip pulling up slightly. "Conditionally," he said. "Last time I made a blind promise, I got involved with all this Edward/Bella shit. As long as I don't have to scheme anymore, than I'll do whatever you want."

"Okay, then put that cigarette out. They make my hair smell." He cackled, reaching his arm over my head to flick it out the window.

"I thought you said the other night that you don't care about those kinds of things." The tone of his voice was mocking. Before I could defend myself, he was laughing, his hand on my knee. "Whatever you say," he smiled, planting a kiss against my temple.

*

First hour crawled by. Mrs. Goff was rambling on about the weather in Madrid—speaking in Spanish all the while, naturally—and Bella was nowhere to be found. The seat beside me was unbearably empty, and my palms were sweaty with anticipation. I snatched my phone from my purse, my fingers moving across the keyboard so quickly that they were almost a blur.

_Where the fuck are you? _I entered. Almost instantly, I got a reply.

_In the lot_, Bella answered. _Giving myself a pep talk. _

I laughed to myself. _Relax_, I wrote. _He's not even here yet. He's doing the same thing that you are now, just from the safety of his own bedroom._

_When will he be here? _She asked.

_Soon. Don't worry._

Minutes later, Bella stumbled over the threshold into the classroom and handed a pink slip of paper to Mrs. Goff. The teacher shot her a glance of warning, telling her in Spanish to take a seat and to pay attention.

"Hey," she whispered, sliding into her seat. Her face was sallow, her thick hair a bit more wild and knotted than usual. She looked like hell.

"Hi," I answered. "What happened to you?"

"Rough morning," she responded simply, tossing her hair over her shoulder so she didn't have to look at me anymore. _Huh. Rude._

The class skipped by now that Bella was there, and the weight of the worry I would have continued to harbor had she not shown up was gone. But now there was a new weight. Bella had done her part, but would Edward? Edward had no idea Bella was here. He was still under the impression that she was the one playing hooky now, not him. What would he do when he saw her? He couldn't run away…actually, maybe he would. _Shit_. Shit, shit, shit.

"So," Bella began as we walked from the classroom and into the hallway. "Where is he?" She bit her lip.

I opened my mouth to answer, but suddenly, I was unable to speak. Almost as if on cue, like I'd called his name myself, my brother pushed his way through the double doors directly behind Bella. If she would have just turned her body slightly, she would have seen him. But there he was, just as promised, his head down and his hair disheveled. "Bella," I choked, "let's go. I, um, have to pee." Before she could protest, I was dragging her behind me and away from the building, making a beeline for the gymnasium.

He hadn't seen her. He couldn't, not yet. Not now.

"Jasper," I screeched into the phone as soon as he answered. Bella was still beneath my grasp, her face confused as I shut the gym doors behind us. The building was empty, the fluorescent lights beaming on the glossy wooden floor. The basketball hoops hung suspended from the ceiling, and I mentally pictured my headless body handing from the orange rim after Edward found out that I'd cheated him. "He's here," I spat into the receiver. "He's here, and he almost saw her."

"What's going on?" Bella asked with frustration, scowling when I hissed at her to be quiet.

"Find him. Please," I begged after Jasper tried to soothe me. "Explain to him that she's here. If he sees her, he'll bolt." I snapped the phone closed, meeting Bella's angry eyes.

"He. Doesn't. Know. I'm. Here," she growled in clipped sentences, her eyes wild and angry.

"I'm sorry," I said, releasing her arm. "I couldn't tell him. It's the only way he would come."

"I have to see him," she said simply, turning to walk out of the gym.

"No, Bella! Please!" I cried, running after her.

"I agreed to fall into your hands for your little project, Alice. But I can't do this right now. I can't wait for him until he wants to talk to me, worrying that he'll run away. I need him to know that I'm here, and I need to see him. I've waited for too long now."

I couldn't catch up with her as she ran. If Jasper wasn't able to talk to Edward before Bella did, then all hell was definitely going to break loose.

**A/N: sorry, this didn't end on a good note. i'll update ASAP. sorry for any grammar/spelling errors, i wrote most of this at around 3AM :) review! love you.**


	20. Terrible People

**A/N: a light at the end of the tunnel! updates will get a little less frequent now that i'm wrapping this shizz up. so review your little hearts out, and maybe i'll feel more inspired :) god, i'm like...blackmailing. anyhoo, i've posted a new, fluffier fic up today called 'Til Death Or Something Equally As Terrible' and i think you all may like it. check it out!** ps- shout out to sexyhippie. HA.  
song: **turn to stone by ingrid michaelson**

**BPOV**

Everything was wrong. And right now, at my fingertips, was the chance to make it right again.

I knew that if I could just find him, I could fix all of it. I wasn't sure how, and I knew in the back of my mind that I should stop running and hold back. But something kept my feet going, one in front of the other, and I couldn't stop myself.

I knew that there was a possibility that he would run away. I lied, and then manipulated him out of his jeans. I avoided him, and he kept secrets from me. I was fucked up, and so was he. We were terrible people.

We were terrible people, but we needed each other. Or at least, I needed him. I hadn't slept and I couldn't pay attention to anything anymore. His eyes never left me. Even though I had been telling myself over and over again that I could never be with him again, and that I wanted Alice and Jasper to stay away from me and out of my business, none of that mattered now. For some reason, I guess that I thought Edward would stay away for longer. I thought he'd hide at home, having Alice continue to bring him his class work, not returning until we were somehow both over things that had happened and we could coexist peacefully. But now, all of my logic was fucked. It was all out the window, and I needed to find him.

Nothing mattered now. Nothing that he'd said to me, not the way that he made me dependent on him, not the tone of his voice when he first told me how I needed him. It didn't matter how he lied, or how he called me a whore, or anything else. All I could see were his eyes. I could see the white tile beneath my feet as I ran through the hallways, scanning the halls and the classrooms for him through the glass. I could feel his arms, the way they perfectly fit around me, the way they felt as he rocked us on the porch swing of his big, white house. I could taste him on my tongue, feel every bit of him. My chest was pounding, my knees shaking. My fingers itched.

I couldn't see him anywhere. His bronze head was nowhere to be seen, no matter where I looked. Alice had already caused me to be late for class. I thought briefly about how I should be furious with her, but I couldn't focus on it. I thought about how I could have been in class, unaware, while Edward was within my grasp. I ran faster now, not caring how my sneakers squeaked noisily against the tile as I ran. I pushed through the heavy double doors that led outside, my eyes searching frantically for any sign of him.

"Edward?" I called stupidly. I tried to slow my raspy breathing as I searched for him, my resolve weakening each minute that crawled by. It was pouring, and I could hardly see a break between the raindrops as they fell to the earth like a waterfall.

_The parking lot?_ Maybe I could easily find his car there, to determine whether he'd left or not. I racked my brain, trying to remember exactly what Alice had said to Jasper just moments earlier. After I realized what was happening, I blocked out most of her telephone conversation. Now, I was mentally cursing myself for not remember more than I had. Because every detail, even minor ones, could have been crucial.

Jasper. _Bingo_. Jasper was supposed to find Edward and tell him, calmly, that I was at school that day. Alice mentioned something about Edward 'bolting.' Damn it, he was going to fucking run. And if he ran, I would lose every chance I ever had. I picked up the pace as I ran to the lot, hoping to stop him in time if he chose to run away from me like some pussy-whipped bitch that I was slowly beginning to resent.

Alas. There sat the Volvo, majestically, in all of its silver glory.

It was there, and I was saved.

At least for the time being, Edward was here. _Somewhere_. I could at least see him if I waited for him, even if I couldn't talk to him. I missed the way his face looked almost as much as I missed hearing the sound of his voice. It had been only just over a week, but I needed him so much that I wanted to scream. My eyes spilled with tears as I tore towards the parking lot, my eyes scanning the landscape for a familiar pair of green eyes.

And that's when I saw. My heart stopped completely as I skidded to a halt on the wet blacktop, the ever-constant rain pelting off my back. It was damned cold, too, the December air making the air icy and uncomfortable as I collected my bearings. The Volvo was still there, not a mirage like I had initially thought, but it was also occupied. A dark form sat in the driver's seat, the rain somewhat obscuring his face from my vision. But there was no mistaking the shape of the man that I needed so desperately as he shook violently, his body trembling with an emotion that I couldn't place.

Everything broke down into slow motion.

I could see, and I couldn't breathe, and all of the fucking emotions and ideas that had ripped through my brain and my heart were completely fucking null and void.

I wanted Edward, I didn't want Edward. I hated him, I loved him. He lied to me, I lied to him. I wanted to see him, or I didn't. Fucking hot and fucking cold.

But as I watched him shudder from the confines of his car, nothing mattered. Absolutely nothing. I would do absolutely anything that it took to get him to open that goddamned passenger door. I had to. Everything I'd said to Jasper, everything I'd promised to myself was a lie. I _wasn't_ over Edward, and I never would be. I would do _anything_. I would stand against anything for him. And just the thought that I'd even considered abandoning him to try and move on made my stomach churn and bile rise in my throat. My breathing picked up into near hyperventilation as I forced myself to move forward.

And almost like clockwork, the tail lights on the Volvo flamed red as he backed out of his parking space. I saw his eyes flicker to my face through the windshield, wide and aware. There was no way that he could have missed me. He had seen me, and he was running.

Suddenly, he was far away, _too_ far, so far that I wouldn't catch him in time unless I made a run for it. I'd felt so close to him, and I didn't realize until now that he was pulling away that I was on the complete opposite side of the lot.

"Edward!" I screamed pathetically, slipping on the asphalt as I chased after the car that I knew so well. "Edward, please! Stop!"

"Bella." A voice that I recognized stopped me as I tripped and stumbled over the uneven pavement, my arm in his grasp. "Let him go."

"Jasper…why…What did you say to him?" I demanded, the rain mixing with the fresh tears spewing from my eyes like a broken faucet.

"I told him you were here, Bella. I couldn't fuck with him anymore." Jasper's eyes were sympathetic as he looked down at me. His hand was still wrapped around the top of my arm. "I know I told you I'd fix everything, but it just…it wasn't right."

I watched him as his navy blue eyes hardened, his blonde hair damp against his forehead. Thunder clapped as a bolt of lightening struck the ground in the distance, the earth rumbling beneath my feet. I wanted to be mad at Jasper. I wanted to hit him, and Alice, too. I wanted to scream at him for telling Edward I was there, for ruining my only chance. But my resolve collapsed as I realized that it was _Edward _who ultimately ran away. He didn't have to, but he still did.

"Oh, Jasper," I sobbed, letting my head drop against his chest. "He's gone now. He's not coming back."

Jasper hesitantly wrapped his arms around me, tightening them around my shoulders as realization sunk in. He rested his chin against the top of my head. "Maybe, Bella. But you'll be okay. I promise."

"I need to go," I said without emotion, breaking away from his hold. "I'm going home. Tell Alice not to be worried."

"I'm sorry, Bell," he sighed. "I wanted to make this right for you. For both of you guys. But he just…he just kind of freaked. Completely freaked the fuck out. I don't know what he expected. You couldn't just stay away forever." He was yelling over the sound of the pelting rain, even though we were right across from each other.

I couldn't stay away forever. But Edward _wanted _me to. And that was enough to tear open my chest and rip my heart out. I felt stupid for all the thoughts that had gone through my head when I first saw him sitting there in his car like a coward. I thought that if I could just get to that car, he would listen. If I could just see his face, everything would fall back into perfection. I knew it would be hard, and we would have to work at it, but eventually, everything would be okay. And now, I was the stupid one, standing in the fucking rain.

"I need to go," I repeated, turning on my heel. My truck was parked on the other side of campus in the other parking lot, and the rain almost hurt from falling so heavily.

"Let me drive you," Jasper offered, gesturing towards his car that was parked a few yards away.

We didn't speak as he drove me around the school. I was making puddles everywhere in his beautiful red car, but I couldn't see or pay attention to anything outside my mind. I though of how _close_ I was, he near to him I was. And he'd sped off like I was Jessica fucking Stanley.

"You gonna be okay, Swan?" Jasper mumbled as he pulled up beside my ancient truck. I nodded quickly as I shut the door.

Death is peaceful, easy.

Life is harder.

*

**EPOV**

"Ready to go?"

Jesus. He was so god damn fucking persistent. _Nagging_ was more like it.

"Dad, we'll be late for dinner. Can't this wait?"

Carlisle shook his head sternly, adjusting the straps of his backpack against his shoulders. "Nope. Get up. Turn off the TV. We're going, whether you like it or not."

"Fine, fine," I whined, pulling my ass off the couch that I so desperately wanted to remain on. "I'm coming. Just chill. I need to change."

Carlisle scratched his naked head, his eyes big and excited like a little kid. "You're fine in what you have on. Just put on some sneakers and let's go!"

I looked down at myself. I was wearing a black t-shirt and saggy-assed sweatpants along with the tube socks I'd lifted from Chief Swan the night I'd first snuck in. I'd worn them so often they had a hole in the toe. No _way_ was I dressed for the hike.

"Come on!" he insisted, tossing a pair of boat shoes at me. "Put those on. Let's go before we lose daylight."

I groaned as I pulled on the ancient shoes that smelled like something died in them. I was pretty sure they had been Jasper's when he still wore things like boat shoes.

In all honesty, I was worried. I was afraid that I'd bring Dad to my place and I'd get the same reaction as I had nine years ago. Maybe the house was losing its magic. I'd brought…Bella—Jesus, her name was hard to say—there, and now look at what had happened. It was done, over, finished and without my consent.

Carlisle fell silent as we trudged through the woods, and I worried that he wasn't going to make it. He'd had three treatments of chemo thus far, and he was growing skinnier and more frail by the day. But my mind was quickly morphing, becoming more optimistic. There _had_ to be a way. I had had a one-track mind, thinking only that Carlisle would die and Esme would be alone to take care of Em, Alice, and I. But as we walked together beneath the blanketing of trees, I had hope.

We had to stop a couple of times before we finally made it. I didn't like how heavily Carlisle's chest rose and fell, but he insisted that it was "nothing" and that we should keep going. I held my breath as the trees parted earlier than I had remembered, the familiar expanse of grass stretching before us.

"Well," I said, "this is it." I stopped on the edge of the forest near a bank of trees, watching my father's face as he looked up at the structure that was still very real. I hadn't been back since I'd come with Bella, and the setting that had once been warm and comfortable now terrified me. I had almost expected to find it destroyed, as it had been in my dream. I wasn't sure if I should be relieved that it still stood, virtually unscathed, or frightened that it could fall at any second.

"I don't know where to start," Carlisle sighed hesitantly, looking to me as he adjusted to straps on his light pack. "I thought I could come here and find all the answers, but honestly right now I'm kind of lost." He began to pace in the knee-high, wisping grass, a crease of worry forming between his eyebrows.

"Well what did you expect?" I asked, starting towards the porch.

"I'm not really sure," he answered thoughtfully. "I just figured that I could come here and immediately I could know everything about you. It's stupid, I know."

"It's not stupid," I said softly. "I understand what you mean."

"You do?"

"Sure," I shrugged. "It's the one place that I can hide. From, you know, everything. And now that you're here, you expect…more."

Carlisle chuckled. "You've hit the nail on the head, Ed."

"You rhymed," I smiled, gaining one from his in return. The stairs creaked beneath my weight as I climbed up them, leaning against the porch swing that had been a part of me. Emmett and I had sat there, dreaming, time after time. Bella had slept in my arms there. I had cried and laughed and fell in love white sitting in that fucking swing. And now that Carlisle sat beside me, rocking back and forth, I felt like it was complete. Everyone that I ever wanted to be there...had been. Maybe this was the missing piece. Maybe Carlisle couldn't feel it, and maybe only I could. I opened my mouth to say something before Carlisle interrupted my thoughts.

"You like this swing," he remarked. It wasn't a question, simply an observation.

"Yeah," I said. "I guess I kind of grew up on it."

"This swing should be at _my_ house," he breathed, his face broken. "You should have been rocking on a swing on _my_ porch. But instead I chased you away and made you come to some stranger's house so you could hide from me."

"You know, I used to think that that was the case. I used to see this house as like, some _haven _or something. Somewhere I could come to get away from everything, you know? But I don't think it's like that anymore. I don't think it was ever like that."

Carlisle's eyebrows pulled together. "What do you mean?"

"I always used this place as an excuse. My life has pretty much been that—a big, giant excuse. This house has been good to me. It knows me. I know I sound like a fruit loop or something like that, but it's true."

Carlisle laughed easily, rocking the swing with the toe of his sneaker.

"But I think that maybe I never really needed this place like I thought I did," I continued. "I used it as some sort of lifeline, like I _had_ to be here to keep my sanity. But I would have been just fine without it."

"No thanks to _me_," he muttered.

"Water under the bridge," I declared dismissively. "What's done is done. All that matters…is that you're here. It means a lot to me. You might not have found what you're looking for, but I'm still glad you came."

"Even though I dragged your lazy ass off the couch to go on some crazy mountain trek with your weirdo father?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes, against all odds. And, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Watch the language."

Carlisle bellowed with laughter, ruffling my hair like I was eight again. The way we should have been.

*

The two of us stayed there until all of our light was almost used up. We talked about simple things, like Esme's tomato garden and Emmett trying for Varsity basketball captain. We talked about scarier things, like what it was like for Carlisle to return back to work and what he was and wasn't allowed to do there. He told me about chemo and how it really scared the shit out of him but he passed it off as no big deal.

"I'm scared, Edward," he'd said to me, his eyes earnest.

For the first time, I felt like…like Carlisle's father. I felt like the father he should have been to me, and it was so crazy and trippy and shit that I thought I would start crying like a prissy bitch. I comforted him the best that I could, listening to him tell me about how it felt and what it was doing to him. I tried to hold it together. This year was already screwing with my manhood way too much for my liking.

He moved on to a more difficult subject matter. That was a delicate way of putting it. _Bella_. The one person I'd tried to shove to the back of my mind and forget about. The one person who refused to be shoved around, even if it was in my own head.

"You should forgive her," Carlisle stated simply.

"What? Why?"

"Because she loves you. And you love her. So what's holding you back?" Carlisle's voice rose as he swung the chair faster, obviously distressed.

"I don't know," I growled, raking a hand through my hair. I didn't know. I kept running and I had no idea why.

"Be smart, Edward. Grow up." His voice was harsh now, and rather than getting offended, I knew he was right.

"I need to figure out _how_ first, Dad."

"You can't _learn _to grow up, son. It just happens. You can't control it."

"I wish I could." My voice broke beneath the weight of my frustration.

"You're doing a good job. I mean it. You've far surpassed my expectations, Edward. I'm…well, I'm proud of you."

"You don't have to be nice. Don't flatter me or anything."

"It's not like that at all. You're maturing. You're learning. Hell,_ I'm _still learning, and I haven't even got it all right yet. You've got to eventually figure out how to live and how to do it right. It's just a shame that I had to learn all of this on the verge of…not being here."

"Jesus, Dad," I cursed. "You're not going to die. Stop saying shit like that."

Carlisle clapped my knee. "I'm going to try, Edward. I'm going to try and fight. I'll do as well as I can. But I'm trying to be realistic, here."

My breath caught in my throat as I scanned his face for any trace of emotion. But all I could find was _acceptance_. "Don't fucking give up, Carlisle," I said, my voice hard and my eyes narrowed.

"I'm not, by any means," he promised, holding up his palms. "But I don't want you in any sort of predicament that I wouldn't feel comfortable leaving you permanently in. Just in case things are, you know, over for me."

I let out a shaky breath, leaning my cheek against my fist. "Just don't quit, okay?"

"I swear, I won't just _quit_ on you, kiddo. I might have been flaky in the past, but never to that extent." He cracked an infectious grin, willing me to smile back.

I forced the edges of my lips up, but it still didn't heal me.

"But about Bella," he continued, despite my audible groan. "_You_ can't quit on _that_. No, don't roll your eyes. I'm serious."

"Dad, you don't know what happened…"

"But I know enough," he insisted. "Don't be stupid. She _loves_ you. She loves you! She loves you more than most married couples your mother and I are friends with. Normally, I wouldn't condone such a relationship. But you need her. You're a mess without her. And _I_ can't take care of _my_self unless _you_ take care of_ your_self."

"I don't know," I said reluctantly, rubbing my eyes with my knuckles. "She'll kick me."

"Ouch," he winced, laughing. "Esme used to punch. And throw things."

I chuckled in spite of myself, cooking up loads of mental images of Esme beating the crap out of Carlisle in a PMS-induced bitch fit. But my laughter died off quickly, my mouth straightening into a hard line after I realized the intensity of the decision I'd have to make. "What if it's too late?" I whispered, looking toward him.

"It's never too late," he insisted. "It might seem that way, but if you really love her, you can find a way."

"Did you get that from a movie?" I snickered, dodging his palm as he reached to nudge me.

"I'm being serious, Ed. Make it happen."

_Make it happen_.

Maybe I would.

But was there still a chance? Even a small one?

Maybe not.

But I'd have to try.

*

**A/N: loophole? methinks YES. we'll see how i choose to play it. i make all of this shit up spontaneously and hope that it works. reviews make me giddy. i only have five of them, so please add to that. love :)**


	21. Relief

**A/N: the only chapter i'm doing outside of B/E/APOV. thought you could look a little insight into the mind of the infamous Carlisle Cullen. this chapter is a review of events that have already happened, leading up until edward's last day of being an emo dumbfuck. i was going to save this until the last chapter, but i think it needs to be now because i'm still not sure which way this story's gonna flop. i apologize in advance for any problems with this...it was written this morning at 3AM during a random spark of inspiration. but enjoy, loves.** **And as always, REVIEW.**  
song: **turn and turn again by rollo**

**CPOV**

It sounded like a thousand swarms of bees, surrounding my head all at once. I couldn't hear anything beyond that particular sound, and my breaths were coming quickly. I caught a glimpse of my wife, poking her head in the room with a frightened expression before quickly jutting away. She knew what was going on, but I think she wanted to deny it to herself.

I held the shaver in my hand by my face, looking at myself in the mirror.

I was a shell. There was no denying that. I was a shell of a person, not really complete, as I had been before. Or at least, as I _thought_ I had been.

My cheeks were sunken, my eyes cold and hard. I was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Sure, I was a doctor, but I was a _surgeon_. I had seen many patients that had problems similar to mine, but I never dealt with them first hand. Maybe it also had to do with the fact that this was _me_. My being. I was the one suffering now, not some stranger that I had nothing to offer to other than an encouraging smile.

The lights above the mirror made my face look drastically different, my pale skin bleached out in a way that made me look inhuman. The shaver still buzzed with life in my hand as I scraped in shallow breaths, my chest rising and falling erratically. I lifted the device to my face again, watching as the silver blades turned into one another angrily. My hand vibrated along with it, and it shook me to the core. This was quite possibly the most frightening moment of my entire existence. I knew that I was drawing it out. But I couldn't help it.

As I watched it foolishly, putting off the inevitable, I thought of my family.

I thought of my beautiful wife, and of the way that her face died a little bit every time she looked at me. The weight was shedding from my frame each day, and it would only get worse the next day when I began treatment. I knew I was doing her a favor as I watched the blades spin, so quickly that they were merely blurs of gray.

I thought of Emmett. Emmett was so tender, so sweet and forgiving and so hilariously spacey all at once that I couldn't help but laugh to myself in spite of the intensity of the moment. I thought of his smile, the way that his cheeks dimpled much like Esme's did. I was so _proud_ of him. I had been an awful father to him, just as I had been to all three of my children, but for some reason he loved me anyway. I didn't deserve that.

My hand continued to tremble feverishly.

I thought of Alice. She was so beautiful. I wished that she would notice how much I loved her, how much I admired her. She was so talented, with so much potential before her that her options in life were limitless. I thought of the ways I'd tried to show her that I cared, and the way that her face had fallen with some sort of dissatisfaction. Ever since she was small, she was the apple of my eye. She had my heart in the palm of her hand, and she never seemed to realize this.

My chest was exploding with fear as I considered the last member of my family. Edward. Angry, hurting Edward.

I often thought about my youngest son and how I'd treated him throughout his childhood. I'd always been very fond of him. He was so different from my other two, maybe a bit darker. Alice and Emmett were always very social, thriving in whatever atmosphere they were pushed into. But Edward…Edward was always much more reserved. He was in his own universe, so introverted that I often had trouble understanding him. I couldn't crack his puzzle, and it frustrated me to no end. He was always babbling about things I couldn't understand, yanking me back and forth and trying to let me in so desperately. I wanted to be there for him. I wanted to know him and be able to gain prospective into his confusing and brilliant world, but I could never gain my footing. I could see that I was hurting him. I would lie awake at night, his face in my mind, thinking of ways that I could identify with him. I loved him so desperately that it hurt me every time his eyes drooped when I denied him, the way his lips turned downward at the ends when I gave yet another excuse as to why I couldn't get to know him.

I could have easily made more time. I knew that my other children were suffering as well as my hours at the hospital grew longer and my time with them became clipped and random. Children need routines. And I was unable to provide them with that.

I think that part of me thought that if I could provide for them, that would be the answer. If I worked often and was able to give them more, I would understand. Alice loved clothes, and I stored that knowledge stealthily. Emmett was accepting of my absence almost always, and throwing catch with him in the yard was enough to get into his good graces for a considerable amount of time. But Edward…I never knew what to say to him. No matter the amount of money that I threw at him or the material possessions that I gave to him, he was always resentful. It was like I was _missing_ something, and he would never tell me what I needed to find.

I filled my lungs with air once again, the fluorescents beaming on my full head of golden hair as I reached into the cells of my mind, trying to find my son. I knew where he was, but I hadn't truly _found_ him.

I'd been making somewhat of an effort. The hospital was encouraging me to stay home more and more, but I knew that I couldn't accept defeat. I loved my work, and as of now I was still able to continue my work efficiently. I wasn't quite ready to sit back and let my cancer consume me just yet, but I also found that I was beginning to be around the house more and more as time went on.

That night…that night that Edward had childishly gauged a hole in my office door was sort of a turning point. When I had found the perfect maple scathed roughly by the edges of my own wood saw, I should have been surprised. I should have been angry, and I should have punished him. But for some reason, it was almost expected. I knew how my son resented me, how he hated that I was never around. And when I was, I built a fortress around myself and hit within the confines of my office so I didn't have to think about him. I loved him, and I always had. But he confused me. He was an enigma. I was so used to knowing everything, so used to gaining knowledge simple by opening a book. But I couldn't learn him, no matter how hard I tried. And to a fairly egotistical man as myself, something like that can be quite frustrating.

But that night, as I gaped at my door in the silence of my hallway, I could hear my boy crying. I heard him wailing like a small child, and at first I wanted to scoff at him. He was almost a grown man. I expected more from him than that—ruining my door and then crying about it like a five-year-old. But then, just then, wheels turned within my mind. I could…I could _understand_.

I sat on the floor at the foot of the stairs to the third floor listening. I heard shuffling and the occasional _snap_ of something being broken. I could hear the ripping sound of my son's sobbing. I could hear his footsteps as he paced, and the grunts of his frustration.

I should have been angry. I should have told him to man up and to stop crying because he was causing a scene. But I couldn't. I was captivated by the sound of his emotion, so used to his coldness that he had displayed to me all of his seventeen years. Edward never cried. Not ever. Emmett cried more often than he did, and Alice cried enough for all of us. The sound of him acting out was almost…refreshing. I _craved_ it. Some leeway into his heart, into his mind, into his psych. It was just what I'd wished for. Save a few disappointed glances and a glint of sadness within his green eyes, I had never, _never_ seen something like this from Edward.

I realized that his life was slowly deteriorating into nothing, and that it was primarily my fault. His life was a mess. A complete, unjustified mess. And I wanted so badly to clean it up for him. The desire was so devastating that it made my limbs ache. The only place I knew where to start was to take the study door from its hinges. I couldn't hide anymore. I needed to let him know that things would change.

So I began to visit him. I began to climb the stairs that were nearly strangers to me to speak with him. At first, it was horribly awkward. I would sit there on his couch, barely speaking to him as he scratched drawings in a sketchbook or lodged his earphones in his ears to listen to music. It was maddening. But slowly, I watched him accept me. Learn me. Know me. My face brightened infinitesimally in the mirror as I remembered this.

I was doing this for him. I was doing it for _them_. I couldn't watch their faces as my hair fell from my scalp without my consent. I couldn't see Esme's face crumble as my chemotherapy wore on. I couldn't watch the well-disguised inkling of terror within the eyes of my children as my body deteriorated slowly. It would be simply too much to bear.

I knew it was time. I couldn't delay it any longer as I watched my face in the mirror, the shaver buzzing impatiently in my palm. One more deep breath, and I had moved it to the patch of hair just above my ear, holding it slightly away from me so it wasn't close enough to remove anything.

_Scrape, scrape, scrape._

My breaths were tremulous and frightening as my head grew heavy, my eyes clouding as I took in the waves of my hair for the last time. Maybe I could do this. Maybe I could make it through. Maybe I could one day have a full head of hair again. But then again, maybe not.

I heard myself holler as the first clumps of hair fell to the tops of my pair feet. A few strands landed on my shoulder, the moisture from my eyes spilling down my wasted cheeks as I began hyperventilating hysterically. Esme didn't come in to check on me, thankfully. She knew that I wasn't foolish enough to bleed myself out to death with an electric razor. She knew I was just…_scared_.

"God," I spat, my shoulders rising so quickly that my entire form was shaking. I spat in the sink, leaning against the counter as my eyes took in my naked scalp where hair had just been. I grew angry as I watched it, my ear tickling against the bare skin.

I raised my hand once again, swiping it along my head furiously, tears falling hard and steady as I moved my hand along the crown of my head. Handfuls of my golden hair were falling all around me, like snow. The faces of my family flashed through my mind with each stroke that I took, my veiled frustration and confusion and love and _adoration_ skipping through my veins.

It was done. I was finished. It was happening, and I was…different.

This was all real. It was happening. It was _happening_. And I…I couldn't stop it. I couldn't control it. I controlled everything in my life. But now, my sickness was beyond my grasp. It was beyond my control, just like the chemo, just like my life, just like my youngest son.

*****

Without my hair, I felt like a child. But it wasn't a bad thing. I felt sort of…fresh. It was an overwhelming sensation, scratching my head and feeling nothing but skin. Surprisingly, my family adjusted very well. I think that maybe it was because I simply went ahead and cut it myself.

I began chemotherapy treatments the day after I shaved my head. I had previously been scared as all hell, my mind flickering to images of myself wasting away as the treatment grew more and more intense. I had seen cancer destroy the lives of various patients and their families, and I saw many of their faces in my head as I thought of the worst-case scenarios. Though I'd never dealt with them first-hand, I'd seen the people that friends of mine worked with in the hospital, and their faces were haunting. The range of their expressions were limitless--fear, bitterness, acceptance. Even fright, like I was feeling. But after I left Edward's room the night I cut my hair, I wasn't so frightened anymore.

That night before chemo was the night that Edward told me.

_Bella_.

I would forever be thankful to that girl for saving my son.

He told me how he thought that he loved her, how she soothed him and made his problems seem trivial. He told me the color of her eyes and how they perfectly matched her hair. He laughed when he talked about her blush and how at first, he hadn't found anything remotely attractive about her. But over time, he had seen her expose herself as she warmed to our family little by little. He saw her as a strong person, someone who was able to overcome whatever was handed to her with just a little bit of help. He talked about the look that she got in her eyes whenever she was determined to do something, the set of her jaw when she spoke passionately. He spoke of her with such love and longing that I recognized something in his eyes that I saw in myself when I thought of my own wife.

_Edward was going to be okay._

This thought settled my soul as I walked back to my bedroom after leaving his. Somehow, I was soothed knowing that Edward's life was falling back into place again. He seemed less irritated by my growing presence in his life, opening up to me slowly rather than pushing me away. I couldn't resent him for keeping to himself, because that was essentially my fault. Edward could have grown to be an outgoing, normal teenager, but because of me, he had to fight for normality. And although I was relieved that he was beginning to pick up the pieces of his life, part of me was still empty knowing that _I_ was the reason things had shattered in the first place.

*****

It was a normal day. Nothing special. But for some reason, the change of the atmosphere in my home was palpable. I felt it, felt it down to my bones, that something was horribly, horribly wrong. It was sort of an intuition, that gut feeling that you sometimes get when you just…_know_ something. But the problem was that I had no idea what it could be.

I knew it had nothing to do with Esme, who was beside me as we moved around each other in the bathroom getting ready for our respective day's activities. It was like a wave that hit me—I could feel it.

That was the morning that it all began.

It was Tuesday, a while after Edward had let me into his mind when he told me about Bella, and I hadn't seen any of my children since Monday morning when I saw them all off to school. Esme and I had recently arrived back home after seeing my mother in Illinois for what I felt could possibly be the last time. I wasn't saddened by it, strangely. I had had a lot of time to sort of accept things and get over them, seeing life now less as just a dreary reminder of my impending death and more as an _opportunity_. I was to head into the hospital today to file some paperwork and then planned on coming home to spend some time around the house. I hoped to speak with Edward again.

I emerged from my room, spooked by the stillness and quiet that smothered me. "Hello?" I called up the stairs. I received no answer.

"The cars are gone," Esme remarked, coming from behind me and planting a kiss on my cheek. Her fingers lingered along the bare skin at the nape of my neck, and her eyes looked thoughtful. "They have school today, you knew that."

"I know," I replied, turning to her. "But something feels…funny."

"What are you talking about?" Her voice was laced with concern. I was sure that she assumed that I was referring to the way that I was feeling physically rather than just in my gut.

"I don't know, Esme," I whispered. "I just feel like a ghost lives here." My stomach was twisting in knots, and I had no idea why.

"You're just nervous," she assured. "Come on, let's go before we're late."

_Shit_. I had treatment again. I had forgotten that I had another 'session' of sorts that day. Perhaps that was what I was anxious about, and I was just blowing things up in my mind to make them scarier than they really were. Esme and I climbed into my Lexus and sped off to the hospital for another terrifying round.

Luckily, my nurse was someone I knew. Carmen had been working at the hospital for almost as long as I had, and we chatted easily as she led me around the nurse's station and support rooms to the chemo room. Choosing a spot in the corner, I nervously lowered myself into a chair and smacked anxiously on the gum Esme had given to me before I'd have to throw it out. Now that I was where I was supposed to be and a bit less nervous than before, I wondered why the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach hadn't gone away. I drew the curtains around me, sitting in my chair calmly although I was so strangely shaken up that I almost wanted to cry.

Esme had chosen to sit in a waiting room while I endured my extremely lengthy treatment. The first few times she had come to sit with me to keep my mind off of things, rubbing my stupid, bald head as she fed me Junior Mints. But now, I think she was tired. It killed her a bit each time that she saw me wince. I didn't miss her eyes clouding over everytime the first and second chemo drug was pushed into my vein. Carmen rambled without pause as she hooked me up to my IV, giving me my anti-nausea meds before the real treatment started. I knew that Carmen knew how truly scared I was. Perhaps that was why she spoke without stopping.

The room seemed very cold to me. The curtains that I chose to draw around me to avoid the faces of any others receiving similar treatment to mine were an unhappy ice blue, closing me off from any sort of normality that I had left. I hated the looks that the different nurses gave me as well. They all already knew me, and for some reason every time I came in I felt foolish and weak for needing _their_ help rather than the other way around. Remember what I said earlier about my egotism.

Carmen always spoke a lot about side effects and when I should call in at any sign of severe complications, as if I didn't already know whatever she had to say to me. I politely nodded, attempting my normal, serene smile. But I was always shaking uncontrollably with nerves, not fooling anyone. Not even myself.

The worst part was the feeling of loneliness. Although there were many others in the room, I recognized that no matter how many people were around that I always had to do this _myself_. The nurses couldn't do it for me, my family couldn't do it for me. It was just me, alone.

The injection site always burned. It burned like hell, actually. The main hassle was that it was so boring. I wished that Esme was strong enough to watch, but I would never put that kind of pressure on her. She was doing her best. Carmen brought me a small sandwich from the café when I complained of hunger pain, and she assured me—as she always did—that the medication I had already taken would prevent me from throwing it up. I winced. Luckily I had been taking the appropriate supplements prescribed by my nutritionist, so the vomiting wasn't so bad. Not really.

Esme took my hand as we left after three grueling hours. I had a splitting headache, and the feel of her hand was nice in mine. Her palm was warm where mine was cold, and it soothed me.

"I love you," she whispered, kissing just above my temple where my hair should have been.

"I know," I said dryly, wrapping my arm around her.

*

I had almost forgotten about the gut-wrenching feeling when Esme and I walked hand-in-hand through the door of our home we'd made together. I was just about to sigh with contentment when it hit me like a sack of bricks—the feeling of dread and unease.

"Esme," I choked, "are the kids home?"

She checked her watch quickly, her caramel eyebrows screwing together. "They should be. Why? What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure," I answered honestly. "Just…intuition." She didn't question me as I took the stairs immediately two at a time, rapping my knuckles lightly against Alice's closed door before poking my head in.

She was lying on her bed, her feet propped up on her headboard, jabbering into the phone. "I don't know, Jasper," she whined. "Just buy the—hey, Dad!" She rolled around quickly after spying me in her doorway, looking genuinely happy to see me. "Hang on, Jazz," she ordered, putting her fingers over the receiver. "How was…you know?" She didn't like to say the word.

_Chemo._

"Fine, Al," I answered, smiling. Obviously, Alice wasn't the problem that was causing me this unease. I closed her door quickly so she could get back to her conversation, ignoring her confused expression as I backed out of her room. I took the few necessary steps down the hall before peeking into Emmett's open door. "Em?" I called into his vacant room. "You in here?"

"Yeah, I'm in el baño," he called with a poor Spanish accent from the bathroom. His restroom door was closed, so I decided to linger in the hallway. "You need something, Dad?"

"Are you alright, son?" I asked, attempting to be casual.

"Uh, yeah?" he laughed. I heard the sound of the toilet flushing, and then a rush of water as he washed his hands. He opened the door and leaned his head out, one eyebrow raised. "Should I be?"

Everyone worried about me during treatment weeks.

"You're fine, Emmett. How's Edward?"

_Edward_. How had I not known that it would be him?

"He didn't come to school today," Emmett replied quietly. "He's…he's sick."

"What's wrong?" I asked quickly, moving towards him as he emerged from the bathroom. My quick movement made my stomach lurch, and I hoped that I wouldn't throw up the only thing I'd eaten that day. Thank God for vitamins.

"It's Bella," he said simply. "Alice told me…I don't know, maybe you should ask Edward."

I considered this briefly, trying to think rationally although my heart was pulling me up the stairs to speak to my son immediately. My mind painted a picture of how exactly I could go about it. If it had something to do with Bella, it was probably something very bad, bad enough to cause Edward to miss a day of school. Bella was all that Edward had. If Bella was gone, so was Edward. It would only be his body that was left upstairs in his room.

"Should I talk to him?" I asked, dropping my voice so there was no chance of anyone else hearing.

Emmett shook his head. "I don't think it's a good idea, Dad. You don't want to go up there. I went to get him out of his room this morning when he didn't come down to breakfast. You can..._feel _it in there."

"Feel what?"

"The…the death." He turned his face to the ground, his shoulders slumping. "His room is dead. He just stayed in his bed with his back turned to me and didn't say anything no matter how many times I screamed at him. Alice only told me the condensed version, but Bella…well, Dad, Bella wasn't good to him. He's a wreck."

"I should have known something like this would happen," I spat, pulling my phone from my pocket. "How could I be so _stupid_?"

"What are you talking about?" Emmett asked, scratching his head.

"I basically told him to go head-first into a relationship with Bella, Emmett. I was so goddamned selfish that I saw a light at the end of the tunnel for him. I saw a way that he could take his mind off of me through Bella, and I pushed him into it."

"Dad, this isn't your fault. I'm being serious. Just…give him some time. He'll be okay." Emmett's eyes drooped as if he doubted the sincerity of his own words.

"I don't want you to tell me what happened," I told him. "I'll let Edward tell me on his own. But do tell me this: is there any chance that Bella will ever come back to him?"

Emmett hesitated, grimacing as I watched his face. "No. No, I don't think she will."

_Shit_.

I hastily typed a text message in my keypad, sending it off to my son up the stairs.

_Edward_, I said, _is there anything that I can do for you? What do you need?_

I received almost an instant reply.

_Nothing. Don't come up here._

Simple as that. My son was hurting, and he was shutting us all out. I desperately wanted to know exactly what had happened. But secrets and betrayals were things that had torn my family apart, and I was trying desperately to rebuild it. There was no way in hell that I would run to Alice and ask her to spill on Edward. I would wait for him, and I would wait for as long as he needed me to.

*

I had vowed to wait on my son. However, I hadn't know that I would have to wait _this_ long.

I was lost, unsure of what I could do for him. I wracked my brain for different things that I _did_ do for him that I could simply elaborate on, coming up short with only a few options. I _always _left him lunch money on the counter, I _always _put gas in his car for him, and I _always _spent one hour nightly with him. The latter was the only one out of three that weren't material and that would absolutely _have _to be noticed by Edward. He obviously wasn't planning on going to school and wouldn't have need for lunch money, and neither Esme nor I intended to force him to go with Alice in the mornings until he felt ready. We were angry at his elusiveness, but at the same time, we realized the intensity of the situation at hand. That first night as I watched his empty chair during dinner, I decided to make my way up to his bedroom like I regularly did and to see if he tried to stop me.

My son…my _son_. My son was a statue.

I felt my breath catch in my throat the night that I first walked through his door after feeling the change in my own house. I softly closed the door behind me, feeling uneasy in the thickness of the air in the room. Placing a bowl of soup at his bedside table, I moved quietly, feeling that any slight noise would send him into some sort of frenzy. I am still unsure of why I felt this way. The room smelled stale and sour although it had only been just over a day since he'd holed himself up. I saw the bronze of his hair sticking out from beneath his comforter, his arms thrown abnormally above his head as he lay, unmoving. I became instantly worried, calming down only when I saw the rise and fall of his back as he breathed. Slowly, I lowered myself onto his small leather couch as I watched him.

I glanced from his still form to the clock now and again, realizing that Edward was not by any means ready to talk to anyone. I might have been a poor excuse for a father, but I still recognized when something was _bad_. I could still see that he couldn't be rationalized with, not now. So I waited until exactly one hour had passed, rising slowly and leaving as quietly as I came.

My family and I waited for Edward to get better. And it scared me as the days wore on when he didn't. My treatment was over for now until I had to go back for the next one, and now that I was home recuperating, it shocked me that Edward still hadn't emerged from his bedroom. I heard him sometimes late at night, quietly opening and closing the refrigerator. I was relieved to know that at least the boy was eating. I also knew that he had a small fridge in his bedroom and that he more than likely had something of sustenance up there with him. I winced as I thought of the fact that Edward most likely considered alcohol and cigarettes as 'sustenance.'

I shouldn't have been as relieved as I was when Edward began joining us at family breakfast. It wasn't until I saw that messy, coppery head of his walk into the kitchen that I realized how much of a toll his disappearance had taken on my family. As I watched Alice's eyes light up, I recognized how empty they had been just minutes before. As I watched a grin stretch across Emmett's broad cheeks, I realized how I hadn't seen him smile for over a week now. We sat there, expectant, as Edward grabbed a pancake from the plate with his fingers and sat silently at the table.

So obviously things weren't truly progressing.

Sure, Edward had decided to come out of hiding for a measly five minutes before locking himself up there once again. But he was still suffering as much as he had been before. His face was still screwed up with pain, his green eyes cold and solid. It was enough for him to hurt _me_, but now he was hurting my _family_. His pain was affecting us all. I couldn't deal with it any longer. Edward owed me no explanation or favors in return for the terrible parenting I'd offered throughout his life, but now, I needed to put my foot down for once.

*

Edward had left the house for the first time in days Tuesday afternoon, over a week since he'd last been out of the house. I heard him shut the heavy front door from my bedroom, listening to the purr of his engine as he pulled out of the driveway. He had muttered something about running by the Forks High after school hours in order to drop off the homework assignments that he was supposedly still completing in spite of the fact that he still hadn't returned to school. I could only assume that he was going after hours to avoid seeing _her_, and I understood. Esme and I convened within the kitchen minutes after he left, waiting for Alice and Emmett to get in. They already knew what needed to be done.

"This is a terrible idea," Alice grouched shortly after she'd entered the house, folding her arms across her chest.

"This is _necessary_, Alice," Esme retorted firmly. "We can't go on letting him live like this. It's not healthy."

"Give him time, Mom," Emmett urged, leaning forward on his palms. "He's trying to get over things."

"He can't just sit around in his room, skipping school and avoiding everyone. That's not going to help him get better." Esme's face dropped as she sniffed daintily, picking an invisible piece of lint from her wool skirt.

"Well, we could do this without harassing him. This is going to push him over the edge, Mom. Ever think of that?"

"Emmett, don't talk to your mother like that," I chastised, shooting him a sharp look. "We're going to take care of this, okay? We're not going to interrogate him or make him feel uncomfortable. We're just going to let him know that we're here for him."

At least that's what I'd hoped to do. Within minutes, Alice and Edward were screaming and Esme and Emmett were crying. Alice decided to drop the bomb on Edward that she and Bella were still talking behind Edward's back, regardless of what Bella had done to him. I was still in the dark, and as much as I wanted to know what had happened between the two of them, I kept my mouth shut. Yelling at Edward hadn't done me much good in the past.

"So you're talking to her?" Edward had hollered, slamming a fist down on the table.

"Well, yeah, Edward," Alice snapped, rolling her eyes. "She told me everything. Just because you can't handle adult situations doesn't mean I can't be friends with her anymore."

"Wow, Alice, that's cute," Edward sneered. I considered interjecting before things got messy, but something told me to just let them battle it out.

" I love how _civil _and _reasonable _you're being," he continued, "especially since _you're_ the one who fucking told her in the first place."

"Edward, language!" I scolded. "And Alice, what is he talking about?" I finally decided to give in to my selfish desire, trying to get to the bottom of things.

"Nothing," Alice muttered, crossing her arms over her chest childishly.

"Bullshit," Edward spat. "Bull-fucking-shit."

I cautioned him once again to watch his language.

"Okay, Alice," he began again. "Let's start off this civilized, polite conversation by asking why the f—sorry, Carlisle. I meant to say, why the _heck_ you felt so inclined to tell Bella all of my business?"

"It's not just _your_ business, Edward," Alice shot back. "Technically, it's mine, too. And Bella had the right to know. Honestly, you can't be mad at me. She would find out eventually."

"No!" Edward screamed, shoving out of his chair. "No, no, no! You don't know what you're talking about, Alice! You telling her about Dad ruined everything! Every single thing I've been working for is completely messed up now."

"Oh yeah?" she snapped. "What happened to your little _none of this is any of our faults_ speech? Maybe you should learn to practice what you preach, dick wad."

"Edward, you hadn't already told her?" I asked. It hadn't even crossed my mind that there was a possibility that he hadn't already told Bella about what was…happening.

The two of them ignored me as if I hadn't spoken.

By the end of the night, things were returning to normal again. The atmosphere of the house was calming considerably, and Alice and Edward were being somewhat cordial to one another. Emmett was still a big blubbering mess after Edward talked with him about his abandonment issues. But things were finally starting to look up. However, I didn't want to speak so soon. I was starting to believe in jinxes more and more as time progressed.

That night after the intervention, I asked Edward to bring me to his place. I marched up to his room like a responsible father would, opening his door and making him agree to take me to his house in the woods. I needed it. The events of the afternoon brought the realization that if I truly wanted to fully know my son, I couldn't simply climb the stairs to his bedroom and drill him on his own life. I needed to see the one place that he'd wanted me to see so badly, the place that I had rejected him. I needed to see it so I could finally, _finally _understand.

For the first time in months, I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

Sometimes, you live your life in so much pain that eventually your body simply adjusts to it. You give up on foolish, trivial things like _hope_, completely abandoning all faith because you know that it's a waste of time. But what if that hope that you once had wasn't just a feeling? What if it was truth? What if that hope was a tangible reality?

Well, I'd lived in pain for a lot longer than I'd had the cancer. I'd been in pain unknowingly for almost all of my life, leading a virtually empty existence. My sickness…well, I couldn't exactly consider myself lucky for being a victim of cancer. But it had opened my eyes when I hadn't even realized that they had been shut. It was mending my family. It was creating a whole person within me when at first there had only been half of one.

Sometimes, when pain takes root within you so long, the single most amazing feeling in the world is to simply have an inkling of faith. A small piece of hope. A little relief.


	22. Alone

**A/N: sorry for the delay, kids. honestly, the summer is crazy busy. this is going to get wrapped up pretty soon, so bear with me. you guys have been amazing, and although my story is still pretty UG, thanks for taking the time to read and giving me a chance. read, enjoy, and i love you guys!**  
song: **the trapeze swinger by iron and wine**

**BPOV**

"Bells, it's 11:30," Charlie whispered.

I shot up from my pillow, my heart stuttering in pulses as I found my father crouched beside my bed. My hand flew to my chest.

"Sorry," he chuckled, straightening his badge. "I just figured I'd let you know that I'm taking off for the day. I'll be back late tonight, most likely."

"Okay, Dad," I muttered, my voice foggy with sleep. "I'll see you later."

"Go on to sleep when you get tired. I'll just let myself in."

I sighed, pulling the covers up to my chin. "Sure."

Charlie watched my face for a moment, frowning slightly before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

I hated the weekends. They were slow and lonely, the rain pelting relentlessly on my windowpanes and never giving me a goddamn break. The weekends were a heavy reminder that I was virtually friendless and alone. Alice would stop by occasionally, but generally her Saturdays were consumed by Jasper Whitlock and her obsession with working him out of his skintight jeans.

Today was really no different.

I tried to keep my thoughts as vague and simple as humanly possible, not allowing my subconscious mind to dig into the deep caverns that I hid away within my head. Those caverns and valleys held nothing but a pair of green eyes that I hadn't seen in days. Those crevices also held the reminder that the last time I'd seen those eyes, they had been full of hate and embarrassment, and they had driven away from me.

God. That was the worst part. Edward had left me this time. Sure, that day in his bedroom, he'd yelled and screamed and ripped me to shreds. But ultimately, _I_ walked out. But this time, it was different. He'd seen me, alone in the rain, calling his name with tears rolling down my cheeks. He'd seen me, and he'd left me. That night after Jasper had let me go in the parking lot was the single most excruciating stretch of time I'd ever endured.

Some say that all you have to do to mend a broken heart is to make it until the morning. Because, supposedly, everything gets better in the morning. But, as I lay against my pillow, my cheeks sticky with dried tears as I watched the sun rise over the hills, I knew that whoever had said such a thing was a terrible liar. My eyelashes were wet, and the morning only illuminated the jagged edges of my torn heart so that I could actually see it rather than just feeling it. Which was worse.

So now Charlie was leaving. It had been a week, and still, I was afraid to close my eyes. There was absolutely no way I was falling back asleep _now_. The rain was falling too heavily and my brain was testing its limits too far to allow for any sort of hibernation. My eyelids fought to stay open.

I eventually found myself at the small table in the kitchen, eating a bowl of Cinnamon Life and watching the trees outside twist in the wind. My eyes were slightly unfocused, absorbing general shapes and colors rather than detail. My day was wide open, and I had no plans whatsoever. It reminded me of when I'd first moved to Forks. I was starting over.

I started thinking about the time that had passed. The fact that I'd taken to wearing Edward's white t-shirt every night to bed wasn't helping me get over things. It had been such a short period of time, but so long all at once. It was something that I rarely allowed myself to consider, but seeing that I had an empty day of being alone, masochism seemed almost appropriate.

The rest of my day was tearfully boring. I watched television and fought to keep myself away from the phone. The next day was Christmas, and I knew that Alice would be with Jasper, exchanging gifts and saliva and other things that I didn't want to think about. So it was just me, _alone_, in the house. Big mistake.

It was times like these that Edward infiltrated my brain. He was so vivid and exact in my brain that it hurt to think about him. It hurt to know that I could have had him there with me on my father's stiff, scratchy couch. It hurt to know that it was _my_ fault that he wasn't.

So the morning bled into the afternoon seamlessly, the night creeping upon me as my lids became heavy with unwarranted exhaustion. I knew I'd have to sleep eventually and that my body would succumb to the warmth of my bed, but I loathed the nightmares that would inevitably consume me without my consent. The worst part was that they weren't really nightmares, but actually fantastic dreams. The only element that classified them as night terrors was the part where, always, without a question, Edward would fade to dust beneath my palms and I would be left alone.

My eyes opened to the loneliest day I'd ever endured. Even more than the day my Mom left and took me with her, even worse than the day that my parents' divorce was final, even more excruciating than the first birthday I'd had after Mom had married Phil and he gave me a baseball glove that was too big for me. It was Christmas, and the irony of it all almost made me laugh. Almost.

This Christmas, Charlie had given me gifts that he'd thought I wanted—t-shirts a size too small, stationary with small dogs running down the sides…things that would be tossed into the back of my closet along with other useless items that would go on to be forgotten. I gave him a new fishing pole and a tackle box before retreating to my room and falling into a deep and surprisingly dreamless sleep. Alice's appearance that evening had been unanticipated, and I forced a smile as she shook me awake with a bundle of silver boxes in her arms.

"Wake up, Bella!" she'd squealed, her cheeks pink from the cold and her hair damp and loose. "It's Christmas!"

"Thanks for reminding me," I mumbled with a slight hint of sarcasm. "Those aren't for me, are they?" I gestured towards the packages that were now sprawled over my purple duvet.

"No, they're for _me_," she snorted. "Of course they're for you!"

"Aw, man, Alice," I grumbled. "I didn't get you anything."

Alice let out an ear-piercing giggle. "It's the season of giving!" she cried. "Besides, Carlisle already bought me a new, cherry red Beemer, so I'm almost gifted out."

I rolled my eyes, accepting the boxes she was shoving in my face. "I doubt that you, Alice Cullen, can be such a thing as _gifted out_."

"Just open, Bella," she breathed, refusing to let my pessimism bring her down. Her eyes widened as I opened the first box, anticipating my reaction.

"A hairbrush?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

Alice smiled with chagrin, shrugging. "I figured that you could use one. You know, because your hair's so...thick."

"Gee, thanks," I laughed, tucking the brush back into the box and shoving it onto my nightstand.

"Next!" Alice barked, plopping another box into my lap.

"How many are there?" I whined.

"Stop complaining, just open."

I opened up three more gifts—a new bag and a matching wallet from Alice, and a gift from Carlisle and Esme. Mr. and Mrs. Cullen had gotten me a pretty little key chain with my name engraved into its flat, silver face. It was beautiful, and also completely unnecessary.

"Alice, this is just too much," I blushed, my eyes pleading.

Alice's face fell from its toothy grin, crumpling into an expression of an emotion very similar to pity. "We all love you, Bella. You know that, right? Even though things…you know, got all fucked up, we still love you. And Esme is sorry that things wound up how they did. I'm sort of the messenger for all of them. You know, the one who can tell you that they all still care."

"All of them except for one," I whispered, my eyes clouding.

Alice stiffened, her lips paling. "You're wrong," she muttered.

"Well, two, if you count Emmett, I guess," I corrected myself, feeling even more depressed than I had initially.

"That's not what I meant," Alice huffed, reaching down to the floor to pick up yet another silver package. "Bella, um, Edward…he misses you."

I choked out a pathetic laugh. "That's cruel, Alice."

"No! I mean it!" she yelped, dumping the box into my lap. "Just…open this."

My eyes welled with tears as I looked down at the gift, the calligraphy from the tag on top too familiar for comfort. "I can't," I gasped, looking up at Alice's face with pleading eyes.

"Just look," she prompted, her eyebrows knitted together.

Taking a shaky breath, I began slowly ripping the paper from whatever was inside. That same breath hitched in my throat when I saw what it was.

A moderately sized wooden box sat simply in my lap. It wasn't carefully whittled with any special kind of design or anything like that, just a tiny, blue star sticker on the top right corner. It was plain, and sturdy, and confusing.

"Look inside." Alice's voice was rough and gravely.

Fear built up inside my chest as I wrapped my fingers over the lid, lifting it from the box with hesitation.

It was filled with random scraps of paper and little knickknacks that, at first, looked like a pile of rubble. I exploded into a helpless fit of unreserved sobs as soon as I looked closer.

There was a Polaroid, slightly aged with the top right corner folded down. A small, copper-haired boy stood in a sunny field, a recognizable, dilapidated, white house sprawled behind him. _Edward Cullen, age 8_ was sprawled in fading purple crayon just below the image. There was also a hunk of wood, painted white on one side and a beautiful maple on the other. Charlie's old flannel shirt that Edward had borrowed the first night he'd crawled through my window, his scent soaked into its fibers. A little Styrofoam sphere, painted to look like the moon. A birthday card, empty without a note or a signature. And a million tiny pieces of paper—some with fragmented journal entries, some with my name written on them, and some with a pair of eyes sketched so intricately and so exact that I knew them to be no one else's but my own.

My tears slipped hot and thick over my parted lips, my chest ripping furiously as sobs whipped violently through my frame. Because, at last, my finger had skimmed over a tiny square of paper taped to the bottom of the precious, wooden box. _His_ handwriting was scattered along its perfect, blue lines, one particular grouping of words popping out at me every so often.

_I love you_.

Alice sat, unmoving at my feet. Her eyebrows were still pulled together, her green eyes soft as she listened to me cry. We sat this way for some time as I touched the things in the box with hopelessness. Eventually, the sky blackened, and Alice slipped silently through my doorway noiselessly.

Only after I heard her car speed away just outside my window did I allow myself to read the letter I'd found again. I would only read it once, just once more before I buried it in the bottom of the waste bin so I'd never see it again.

_Bella_, it said,

_I don't know what to say to you, except for that I love you. I wish that I could go back and fix everything, to go back to when I first saw you in the courtyard at school when we sort of hated each other, to go back to that first night in Emmett's room, to tell you everything, to tell you the truth. You know that I'm not particularly talented in the art of expressing my feelings, especially on paper. But, Bella, I can't even tell you how much I miss you. I miss the hell out of you. I love you, Bella. I don't know if you love me, or if you just said it because you felt bad for me, but if I've ever been sure about anything, it's this. I love you. God, I love you. And I want you back. I want you back, and your fucking strawberry hair, and your chinchilla shit rainsticks and all of the weird stuff that you love. I want you. But there's been too much shit. There's been too much. I understand if you never want to see me again. That would probably make sense, after everything that's happened. I know I'm asking too much from you to forgive me. I always feel like I'm asking too much from you, anyhow. It would have been too much for me to ask you to stay with me through Carlisle being sick, and it would be too much for me to ask you to be normal for me so I wouldn't freak the fuck out every time I was alone. But you were perfect for me, Bella. You showed me how to be a decent fucking person, and not some self-righteous, egotistical prick. You showed me how to grow the hell up. No one can ever replace you, Bella. I love you. I was half a person when I met you. And while nothing is going right and everything is completely fucked up right now, I can breathe. I can love my dad again, Bella. I can do this. I can help him now. I can do this. I love you, Bella. I love you, and I miss you, and I can never go back to my big, white house again. Because..fuck, Bella..that house is _our _house. I'm so sorry. Oh, and Merry Christmas.  
_

_Edward.  
_

When my body was frail and weak with devastation, I allowed my eyes to flutter closed as my tears dried on my wasted cheeks.

*

**EPOV**

I don't know why I did it to her.

I don't know why I gave Alice that goddamn wooden box to wrap in her prissy silver wrapping paper and I don't know why I let her fucking leave the house with it.

I mentally slapped myself for picking out such gay shit to give to Bella for Christmas. I knew I had to make things right, I just had no idea _how_. I don't know why I'd decided that Christmas was the perfect opportunity to make things up to her. Because I knew she'd fucking cry or get angry or throw the fucking thing at my sister and that it would probably ruin her whole day. But I did it anyway.

Carlisle's words stayed put. I could have slept fifteen thousand sleeps and I would still hear him in my head like he was right there with me.

_It's never too late. It might seem that way, but if you really love her, you can find a way._

_If you really love her, you can find a way._

Why the fuck was I so confused? I, without a doubt, was in love with Bella Swan. Easy enough, right? Wrong. Because this girl that I was inexplicably in love with also hated my guts. I'd lied to her, and she'd told me that she loved me. Maybe she was lying because she knew about Carlisle, but then again, maybe she wasn't. But we'd used each other. I could have told myself that she took advantage of me day-in and day-out but I knew that I'd used her, too. It was an exhausting game of cat-and-mouse. Because as much as I wanted to hate her, I couldn't. Because I loved her. And I was making myself fucking sick.

I wasn't sure how I'd turned into such a pussy bitch, either. It all started when I found out about my dad, when I carved a hole in his study door like a whiny brat and then cried about it. Something broke inside of me that day. Something told me that life wasn't about me anymore. I think that that's why I cracked. I realized that there were bigger things than myself and my pathetic daddy issues. So maybe that's why I put a piece of the office door in the box I sent with Alice. I had stared at the gaping hole with such fear and resentment and hatred that I neglected to realize how fast my changing heart was pounding. That was the beginning…the starting point.

The catalyst.

So it was too late to stop Alice after she'd climbed in the new car Dad bought her to drive to Bella's on Christmas Day. As I watched her speed away, I knew I'd fucked up. Maybe the gift was too lame, too personal…maybe Bella would reject it or think it was stupid. We hadn't spoken in around three weeks, and it was very possible that she wouldn't forgive me now. I'd come in for the few periods a day that I didn't have class with her, and then simply leave before she could catch up to me. I thought that maybe she'd try and find me, and maybe I'd eventually have to see her. But she never did. I learned very quickly that Alice was keeping tabs on me, and was probably keeping Bella away. Fuck, I was mean. I was testing her. Trying to see if she'd make her own way back to me, so I didn't have to grow some and win her back myself. It was so petty. It was so stupid. But it was _us_.

I gave her the little wooden box I used to keep childish keepsakes in, like my first baseball glove and a little treasure chest that had all of my baby teeth in it. She wouldn't know it from any other wooden box, but I felt like…Christ, I'm lame…it felt like there was a piece of _me_ inside. My hands shook like hell as I packed it with all the ridiculous shit that I figured would remind her of me. I put my secrets away in it and things that embarrassed me. But I knew that if she wouldn't take me back, there wouldn't be a point to anything that I'd worked for over the past months. I had been forced to grow up, to get the fuck over myself and to care about someone else more than I cared about myself. And I prayed with everything inside of me that she'd open the box and…I dunno, butterflies and rainbows and shit would fly out and make her forgive me and fall in love with me again. I knew that, naturally, it wouldn't be that simple, but I hoped that someone would have mercy on me. Bella, for one.

But maybe it was just wishful thinking.

Along with the little piece of door that I'd roll between my thumb and index finger as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling night after night, I'd put something that reminded me of the other good thing in my life besides this girl that had flipped my whole world upside down. I dug furiously through my sock drawer, trying to find the only picture I kept in my room. It was an old photograph, taken by Emmett, of me in front of my house. The place that I grew, the place that I'd taken Bella to and the place that I'd formed a relationship with my father. It was me, all sunny and stupid and young, standing in front of the most beautiful home I'd ever seen, my eight-year-old, chicken scratch calligraphy printing my name and age along the white bar below the image. I felt like a fucking fool as I kissed the back and put it in the box.

I threw in the shirt Bella had given to me the first night I kissed her, her scent still faintly in the collar, and a moon from my third grade science project that reminded me of the one place Bella had ever wanted to visit. With trembling fingers, I added the empty and completely impersonal birthday card my father had given me for my seventeenth birthday. I knew Bella probably wouldn't understand, but I figured that she should have it anyway. So much bitterness was harbored in that little, insignificant paper card. I'd grown so much from that day, and I hoped that putting it in there would help the…the _magic _or whatever.

And, holding my breath, I haphazardly threw in little bits and pieces of the pages I'd filled about her fucking goddamn eyes and sealed it up before I could chicken out and change my mind. I didn't give her much, but I had given her _everything_.

I was a fucking moron. As I watched the taillights of Alice's new, beautiful Christmas gift, I wanted to bash my head into the driveway and take it all back. It was system overload. It was too much. Because, after I'd sealed away all of the stupid representations for how much I loved Bella and how much she'd taught me, I'd sealed away a letter. A tiny, scrap of paper, telling Bella everything. Something that, if she didn't look hard enough, she'd never find.

And Bella was never one to be any less than thorough.

*

**A/N: so...there you have it. angst angst angst! sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes. that's what i get for not having a beta. review?**


	23. Reconciliation

**I know, it's been a long fucking time. I am crazy busy. I'll update my other fic soon, too, because I'm about to have a ton of down time. But I hope you like this chapter, even though it kind of puts a damper of the E/B action. I figured that Alice and Jasper have been neglected for a few chapters, so hopefully nobody has a bitch fit.**  
song: **can you tell by rarariot**

**APOV**

If I were being honest with myself, I would have admitted that I snooped. I did it. But so what? People snoop. It's a perfectly normal thing to do. It's curiosity, that's all. Maybe I didn't even snoop. _Snoop_ is such a dirty word. Maybe I was just…testing. Testing out the box to make sure Bella wouldn't get a splinter or something. I was actually just being nice. That's all.

Fuck.

_Fine_. I _snooped_. I read Edward's little fucking Inspector Gadget top-secret Mission Impossible letter thing he taped to the bottom of Bella's box.

He gave it to me, his hands shaking while trying not to make eye contact. "Can you wrap this for me, Al?" he asked, his voice low and gravely. "I tried to wrap it like, three times, and I just keep fucking it up."

I snorted, taking the box from his hands and trying to figure out why he was sweating so profusely. "Sure," I giggled, tugging to pry the thing from his fingers. He swallowed, dragging his hand across his forehead with his eyes to the floor.

"Thanks," he whispered before turning to bolt out of the room. I tossed the box on my bed, its contents clanking and banging up against each other. Edward poked his head in through my cracked door, his eyes fixed on his suspicious gift. Shaking his head, he muttered something to himself that sounded like 'pull yourself together, man.' And then he was gone.

Hm. Weird. Edward usually bought Em and I Christmas gifts, but he almost never bothered to wrap them, and if he did, he didn't care whether or not they looked like shit. So who would he be giving such a gift to? Certainly not Jasper. I had actually been getting ready to go exchange gifts with him the very second that Edward had decided to come and have an aneurysm over some stupid wooden box thing. And it obviously wasn't for me or Emmett. Edward loved to torture me with anticipation and he knew all too well that I had too big of a mouth to keep secrets from our older brother. That left…Bella.

I eyed the wooden box carefully as I considered this, something clicking in my brain as I realized how very familiar it was.

This was _Edward's_ box. When he and I were small, I'd sneak into his room and stretch up on the tips of my toes, trying desperately to reach the very box that Edward kept on the top rack of his closet. But I could never reach, and the minute I'd managed to drag his desk chair over in the exact place I needed it to be, Edward would burst in and yell or kick me or something.

"It's a secret," he'd laugh every time I begged him to tell me what was inside. I'd whine and cry and throw tantrums while he smiled at me innocently, Esme sending me to my room to have a time out for yelling at my brother. It was maddening.

When we turned seven, Edward started bringing the damned box absolutely _everywhere_. School, friend's houses, everywhere. He'd put it in the grass during recess and sit on top of it, sliding it under his desk during Spelling and propping his elbows up on it while we ate our ham and cheese sandwiches at lunch. Soon enough, both Edward and Emmett were laughing about the secret contents of the little wooden box, turning their eyes up to my face to snort and giggle as my eyelashes grew wet. I remember how hot my cheeks would get, my little fingers curling into fists as I watched my brothers enjoy a secret that I could never know. It didn't help my case when they began disappearing almost everyday after school the next year, whispering things to one another about the woods and some mysterious hangout that they had together. Edward would tuck the box beneath his armpit, shooting me a glare as they left the confines of my backyard together. I was always alone.

I never really found out exactly what he kept in the box, but I knew that it was _his_. It was his most favorite thing in the world, his best-kept secret. Sometimes I considered what could be inside and wondered if I was better off just not knowing. It was probably something stupid, like a Gameboy and Pokemon cards or a little clipping out of one of Jasper's dad's old Playboys from the seventies. But I think it was the fact that I wasn't allowed to know that kept me wondering.

So now he was giving it to Bella. And as much as I wanted to open the box and look inside, after I read that letter, I couldn't bring myself to do it. My eyes clouded and nearly spilled over as I took in everything that my brother had written, his complete vulnerability overshadowing the general irritation that I felt for everything that he did.

Edward loved Bella.

There was no denying it.

If he loved Bella more than Jasper loved me, I didn't really want to think about it. I think that our individual relationships were too drastically different to compare them to one another. But I was…proud. I was proud of Edward. I knew he'd hack my head off if he found me reading the one thing that could ever possibly bring the best thing in his life back to him, but I don't regret reading it. Amidst the _fucks_ and _goddamnits_, three words repeated numerous times formed a lump in my chest that I couldn't shake.

_But, Bella, I can't even tell you how much I miss you. I miss the hell out of you. I love you, Bella. I don't know if you love me, or if you just said it because you felt bad for me, but if I've ever been sure about anything, it's this. I love you. God, I love you. And I want you back._

As a gasp ripped its way from between my teeth, I hastily folded the note back up and slid it under the tape that held it in place. The words embarrassed me. Not because they were stupid or anything, but because I was never meant to see them. As I wrapped the silver paper around Edward's gift, something settled within me. I was rooting for Edward, and if Bella didn't take him back, she was a fool.

I knew everything. Bella had told me, surprisingly enough, without sparing any important details. I would have normally said that the entire relationship was fucked, but after reading my brother's letter to her, my mind was in my skull backwards and my train of thought was completely shaken. I'd told Bella the truth about Carlisle, and she'd wanted to tell Edward that she knew. But instead, she, um, jumped on his dick. Hmph. It was kind of retarded and sort of un-Bella-like, but I guess she was under some kind of intense pressure. To each, her own, I guess. But then she came back and…did it _again_. So now she in Edward were in a tangled web of lies and deceit and he wanted her back. Did he deserve her? Maybe not. But I was kind of pulling for him.

*

My alarm smacked me into consciousness the next morning as I woke with my face planted into the carpet, my light still on a several pieces of tape stuck to my disheveled hair. It wasn't like me to fall asleep improperly groomed, and I guess I'd been wrapping one to many presents if I'd passed out on the floor like that.

"Get up, Alice!" Emmett's voice boomed from the other side of my door. His fists fell against the wood, laughter erupting from his chest like a child's. "It's Christmas! Wake up! It's Christmas!"

I groaned, scratching my head as I heard Emmett bound down the stairs. Sometimes it was hard to believe that he was a day over seven. I peered out the window, the silence of the heavy snowfall swallowing the entire house. If it wasn't for Emmett, I would have thought that the house was empty. That was the good thing about Forks: it constantly rained, but when it was cold, the rain turned to perfect, powdery snow.

Peeling off the previous day's clothes, I wrapped myself in my silk robe and followed the sounds of my family coming from the kitchen.

"Merry Christmas, baby!" Esme chirped, setting a steaming plate of waffles on the center of our kitchen table.

"Yes, Merry Christmas, Alice," Carlisle said softly, a warm smile stretching on his face. He rubbed the top of his head self-consciously, taking thoughtful sips from his coffee.

I smiled in return, my eyes drooping. The chair scraped across the tile as I pulled it back, startling Edward. He'd had his head in his arms—neither of us were morning people, like the rest of the family.

"Merry Christmas, twin brother," I cooed sarcastically, cutting a waffle in half and plopping it on my plate. "Fa-la-la, and all that."

"I appreciate it," he grimaced, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands as Emmett shoveled four waffles onto his plate for him. "So when can we start the festivities so I can go back to bed?"

"Edward!" Esme chastised. "It's Christmas. Be a good sport."

Edward yawned. "I _am _a good sport. That's why I'm down here in the first place, and not up in bed still."

"Well, regardless, today is the day of Jesus' birth. We will celebrate as a family."

"I'm not complaining, or anything, but Mom, we don't even go to church," Emmett laughed, shoveling an entire waffle into his mouth.

Carlisle hastily swallowed his coffee before coming to Mom's defense. "It doesn't matter. We're a family, and today, we're going to act like one. Now everyone, get in the Christmas spirit. Or, uh, you'll be in deep trouble."

A giggle escaped from my throat as Carlisle struggled to make his threat valid. "You _must _open that present, Edward, or I shall lock you in the dungeon!" I mocked, lowering my voice in a poor attempt at mimicking my father's voice.

Edward chuckled. "Alice! You _must_ eat that gingerbread cookie and you _must_ enjoy it! Or else!" he imitated, Carlisle's cheeks turning pink.

"Now, now, that's enough," he said firmly, his lips fighting a smile. "Let's just enjoy the day and keep the fighting to a minimum. Agreed?"

"Fine," we all sighed in unison.

Christmas was never really such a big deal. We all bought what we individually needed or wanted throughout the year, so Christmas shopping was always particularly difficult. I can't say that I was bored when Carlisle gave me the keys to a new BMW, however. Edward and I had been driving to school together since we'd gotten our licenses—never mind the fact that I initially failed my driver's test three consecutive times. Now his emo ass wouldn't be such a Debbie Downer on the short morning drives to school. _Only the Cullen children would drive three individual cars to school in the morning_, I thought to myself, smiling as I ran my fingers across the buttery leather of the headrest. It wasn't like I was willing to save the O-Zone or whatever by driving with _Emmett_ in the mornings. Ew. _Take that, Environment!_

Edward basically got cash from our parents, and copious amounts of it. It was sort of disgusting.

"Maybe you can use some of that to get a nice haircut?" Esme suggested politely. It reminded me of something that I would do. Actually, it _was_ something I would do, something I would _be _doing. My thoughts flickered to the wooden hairbrush wrapped carefully in my bedroom—a gift for Bella and her ratty, knotted hair. "Or maybe you can take those piano lessons you've always wanted. Become more cultured," Esme prompted.

"Thanks, Mom," Edward grunted, ignoring her hopeless suggestions. To accent her hollow requests, he ran a hand hastily through his tousled hair. I could almost hear her cringe.

Emmett got season tickets for some sport's team in Seattle and a bunch of shit for his Jeep. I rolled my eyes as he chortled like a little girl, his eyes widening with every gift that he unwrapped. I could almost picture him in footie pajamas and pigtails as he unwrapped a new football, a feminine squeal slipping from his mouth.

I'd gotten my mom and dad little, somewhat impersonal things, trying to lighten the mood. But when Emmett, Edward, and I were done opening our presents, the mood shifted drastically. Esme had unwrapped her various spa certificates and cashmere sweaters, leaving my father somewhat in the spotlight. I swallowed nervously as I watched him.

Carlisle's health wasn't improving. It was a cloud over our heads, dark and ever-present. It was unsettling, not having any closure or a sign as to what would come. But as he sat there, on the couch beside my mother with his eyes in his lap, emotion built up inside of me. The eyes of my brothers mirrored what I felt.

Esme pushed his elbow expectantly as he twisted a small box over and over between his thumb and his index finger, prompting him to open it. He glanced at her, his eyes sad and strangely old with age. They watched each other for just the shortest minute, her face pleading as he continued to twist the package with his fingers. The exchange was odd, the emotion in their faces undetectable. But for some reason, it made me feel…empty.

"Alright," Carlisle breathed, his eyes dragging from Esme's face to the gift in his palm. He forced a smile, sliding his finger beneath the tape. "Let's see what we have here."

"Oh! That's from me," I said, watching my father carefully.

He smiled a toothy grin, but it didn't quite touch his eyes. He lifted the lid from the package, his eyes adjusting as he stared at the new cufflinks I'd bought him, nestled deep within the satin box they came in. "Wow, Alice," he breathed. "This is just…wow."

"You're welcome," I answered warmly, my stomach twisting into little knots. Why was he reacting this way? He stared at those stupid cufflinks as if they were the face of God. Edward looked just as confused. Emmett wasn't really paying attention, but was actually just drawing a picture of a deformed-looking naked chick on the new Etch-a-Sketch that came in his stocking.

Esme slipped a hand around Carlisle's knee, squeezing it gently. He eyed her again, pursing his lips as his jaw set in a hard line. They exchanged more foreign glances before he turned his attention back to the small pile of presents at his feet.

He opened the gift from Emmett, which as actually been wrapped and purchased by me. Emmett would have wound up buying Carlisle something like a hockey stick or an X-box game—something that would inevitably wind up back in his own hands. It was a box of cologne and a set of season tickets identical to the ones he'd purchased for Emmett, so that the two of them could go together. "Emmett, how did you know—Ah. Alice." Carlisle laughed a genuine cackle, reaching forward to ruffle Emmett's hair like he had when we were little. Emmett smiled before turning his attention back to his stupid little toy.

"Thank you guys," Carlisle muttered, his throat groggy as he looked at all of us with those same, empty eyes. "This really means a lot to me."

"Wait!" Edward yelped, making us all jump a little. "You forgot about my present." He reached behind him, extracting a present that was wrapped in a horrid Santa-print, duct tape wound around it to hold the lumps and wads of wrapping paper in place. I smiled, remembering that particular roll of paper. It had to have been years old.

Carlisle opened his mouth to speak, deciding against it and closing his lips. Edward reached toward him with the gift as Carlisle stared at it, his eyebrows knitted together. "Thanks," Carlisle said as he grabbed the terrible looking thing from Edward's hand. They locked gazes, and Edward's lips turned down at the ends with discomfort.

"You're welcome," he muttered, his eyes falling to his lap.

The package was kind of huge. If I hadn't known better, I would have said that it was around the same size as the box that my new Fendi came in. Carlisle's eyes searched the horribly wrapped paper, not really knowing what to do with himself. Edward _never_ bought presents. This was…odd.

Edward watched expectantly as Carlisle being to slowly peel the paper from whatever was inside, his eyes widening when he revealed a rickety cardboard box. What was _with_ Edward and his fucking boxes? Regardless, Carlisle seemed to think it was completely normal as he lifted the flaps folded into one another to peek down inside of it.

"Edward," he said, his voice muffled with a mixture of shock and appreciation. "Is this—?"

"Yeah," Edward answered quickly. He looked down at his lap, raking a hand through his hair nervously.

Carlisle's milky blue eyes flitted back to the box, his unsure, shaking fingers reaching down into its depths. He pulled out a worn, brown mass, held together by old red stitching. It took me a minute to recognize what it was, and when I did, I couldn't fight the smile that stretched across my face.

"You bought me that," Edward murmured, looking up at our father. "When I was five. I used it in my first Little League game."

"I remember," Carlisle said warmly, smiling to himself as he shoved four of his fingers up into the baseball glove. "You were so excited."

I felt almost indecent, watching Carlisle open Edward's gift. They interacted as if they were the only two people in the room, and I felt like I was intruding as I watched them. Edward hadn't spent anything on Carlisle's present, but I got the odd feeling that this gift was my father's favorite.

"It's the best thing you ever did for me, Dad," Edward replied. "You can bring a glove next time we go to the house."

"What house?" Esme interjected, her eyebrows screwing together in confusion.

Carlisle laughed, ignoring her and twisting on the leather of the couch so he was angled toward Edward. "We have a deal," he said, absolutely beaming.

*

"I peaked," I admitted, my eyes in my lap.

"What do you mean, you peaked?" Jasper chuckled. He slipped his finger beneath my chin and lifted my face towards him, his navy eyes churning with confusion.

I'd driven to Jasper's as soon as Esme gave me the green light, the strange feeling that my father's unexplained reactions had given me still creeping uncomfortably up my spine. We were cuddled up in his little twin-sized bed, the cover pulled up to our chins as the snowfall from outside his window cast a muted glow over the room.

"Edward got Bella a present," I answered, hoping that I wouldn't have to explain any more. I felt impossibly guilty for rummaging, and I hated it. Guilt wasn't an emotion that I was used to having, what with me barely having any sort of conscience.

"A Christmas present?" Jasper asked. "Fuck. I wonder how she'll take it. But I still don't understand the 'peaking' part."

I sighed, twisting in his arms so the back of my head was against his chest. "Edward…well, Edward taped a letter on the bottom of the wooden box he put all this sentimental shit in. And I, um, I read it."

Jasper gasped, his arms tightening around my waist. "A _wooden_ box, you said? Like, _the_ wooden box?"

"That very one," I answered.

"Damn," he sighed. "He used to be fucking obsessed with that thing. But about the note thing…I'm guessing that you found it?"

"Yeah. I didn't go looking or anything, I just felt it, taped to the bottom."

"Did you just find the box somewhere? Did he leave it in his room or something?" he asked, his hot breath fanning over the top of my head.

"No, no, nothing like that," I said quickly, twisting Jasper's blue sheets around my ankles. "He gave it to me to wrap. Edward can't wrap worth shit."

I felt Jasper's chest rumble against my back as he chuckled. "Oh, I know. Trust me. He's given me presents before."

"But I guess that I sort of…read it. The letter, I mean. I found it and I couldn't help it."

Jasper laughed again. "No offense, Al, but that's typical _you_. Curiosity always gets your best. Edward knows that."

My eyebrows furrowed. "What are you saying?"

"What I'm saying is that Edward knows that you're a bonafide snooper. Jesus, Al, you snooped through my _underwear_ drawer when we were young just to see if I wore boxers or briefs."

I blushed as he kissed the top of my head.

"Your brother wouldn't have given anything to you that he doesn't trust you with. No need to get all guilty on me," he said, his voice colored with assurance. I lifted my head to look at his face. One side of his mouth pulled up into a smirk.

"I guess you're right," I sighed. "I didn't look _in_ the box, though. I felt too bad about reading the note. But after I leave here, he's making me bring it to her."

Jasper grimaced. "Christ," he swore. "Tough luck."

"You're telling me," I muttered, twisting again so I was facing him. I looked down at where my hands were pressed against his chest, taking a deep, labored breath.

"Hey," he said softly, struggling to meet my eyes. "You'll be fine. If she gets angry, then you can always leave. If she cries, stay with her. You'll be fine."

"I guess," I agreed half-heartedly. "Or maybe she'll just slap me. I haven't been very helpful. Especially since The Justic League was sort of terminated."

"You were never very good at keeping secrets," Jasper said thoughtfully. "The Justice League was doomed from the start. We have to let them work out their own problems now."

"You're right," I sighed, defeated. "But thanks for trying."

He smiled at me for a moment before his warm lips shaped against mine, his hands cradling my face. The weight of my anxiousness lightened almost as if he'd commanded it. He pulled me by the armpits so I straddled him in the classic Alice-and-Jasper position, his hands grasping greedily against the back of my sweater.

"Merry Christmas," I giggled, moving my mouth from his lips to his earlobe. He let out a groan as I ran my tongue against the cuff of his ear, his finger snaking lightly up my bare spine.

"Woah. Not the kind of thing I want to see on the morn of baby Jesus' birth," a familiar voice called clearly. I whipped my head in the direction of the sudden sound, gasping when I found Rosalie standing in the doorway with her hand on her hip.

Jasper's cold hands slipped out from beneath my sweater so quickly that I yelped, blushing as I realized the awkwardness of the situation at hand. "Get out, Rose," he said angrily, placing his hands around my hips and lifting me off his crotch.

"Calm down, Big Brother," she said nonchalantly, inspecting her perfect nails. "I just need to talk to your hooker for a minute."

"Who, me?" I squeaked, internally smacking myself for being intimidated by my oldest friend. The embarrassment of getting caught by Rosalie as I was about to do her brother hadn't quite worn off yet, and the chagrin was diminishing my ego.

"Do you know of anyone _else_ who is fucking my brother? Wait, don't answer that question," Rose snickered, tapping her foot against the hardwood impatiently.

"Get out, Rose!" Jasper repeated, his eyes hard and angry. "I mean it. Leave."

"Give me just a minute with her!" Rose insisted, the volume of her voice just below a shout. "Then I'll give her back and pretend that you _aren't _screwing her outside of marriage on a Christian holiday."

Jasper deliberated for a moment, his breathing heavy and frustrated. "Fine," he said after a moment. "You'd find a way to get what you want anyhow."

"So glad you see it my way," Rose smirked, trudging toward the bed and taking me by the arm. "Be back in a jiff," she sang as she pulled me through the door.

"What is it, Rose?" I spat, tugging my arm away from her steel grasp as she led me into her bedroom.

She sprawled across the red satin of her duvet, crossing her ankles and folding her arms across her chest as her long, blonde curls fanned across her pillows. "I got you a present," she answered simply.

"And that's why you interrupted? To give me a Christmas gift?" I asked incredulously. I placed my hands on my hips, shooting daggers as I waited for her excuse.

"'Tis the season of giving, blah, blah, blah," she replied with a bored expression. "I thought you'd be happy. You love gifts."

I could feel my face soften as I crossed the room to perch on the edge of her bed. "I do. And I appreciate it. But, um, no offense, you are a _huge_ cockblocker."

Rose shot up a hand and gagged. "Don't want to know," she hissed, shaking her head. "But, yeah. I got you a gift. Because even though you don't talk to me anymore, you're still my best friend for all intents and purposes." She reached across to her bedside table, retrieving a small, antiqued silver picture frame with a picture of the two of us when we were ten inside. Rose was still beautiful and I was still, well, short, but we were both smiling so hugely that it made me happy just looking at it. My eyes welled with tears as I looked back up at her.

"You're still my best friend, too, Rose. Forever."

She sniffed, trying to hide the emotion on her face. "So you like it?"

"I do," I said earnestly, tracing our childish faces with my index finger. "I love it."

"Well, that's good, then," Rose said awkwardly, her eyes glued to her toes. The two of us sat in silence, the hum of the air conditioner the only sound. Rose would shift every once in a while, our eyes playing tag with one another whenever we thought the other one wasn't looking.

"So…" Rose said, breaking the ice. "How are things?"

I laughed, feeling a mixture of humor and bitterness. A little under five months ago, Rose and I would have been gossiping and playing with each other's hair by then. But things were different. _Everything _was different.

"Things are…good. I guess," I said indifferently, shrugging. "Everything going okay with you and Emmett?"

"Yeah," she shrugged back. "I'd ask how you and Jasper are, but I think that I get the idea."

I chuckled uneasily, picking at her bedspread and swinging my legs off the edge. Again, a few moments of silence passed as we sat there in stillness. "I miss you, Rose," I blurted, her eyes moving quickly to meet mine. I clamp my lips together, cringing at my little outburst.

"You do?" she asked quietly.

I nodded. "A lot, actually."

Silence.

"We used to be so close," I continued hesitantly. "Before Jasper was even in the picture. But now, it's just awkward."

She barked out a humorless laugh, criss-crossing her legs and leaning her elbows on her knees. "That's for sure," she sighed, resting her chin on her fists. "We even met up to talk about this, remember? We promised that we just wouldn't talk about our relationships. But Em and Jasper are such a big part of our lives, Alice. I never thought that the result of our compromise would wind up with us just not talk to each other."

"I know," I said softly. "I never thought that either."

"I can't have you as a best friend and just not talk about Emmett, Al."

"Me neither. About Jasper, I mean."

"Well then…what do we do?" Rosalie's thin, blonde eyebrows pulled up as she raked her hair back with both palms.

"I don't know," I replied, shaking my head. "Just…_not_ be best friends?" The thought made a little piece of my heart break off.

"Maybe," Rose answered, her eyes falling away from mine.

Silence consumed us again, but it wasn't awkward anymore. It was just _sad_.

"I love you, Al," Rosalie said firmly. "I do. And I don't want to just lose you as a friend."

"Me either," I agreed.

"So we'll work it out. Let's just stop avoiding each other. Let's try and be close again. If it doesn't work out, then that's fine. But I just…I wish that I could talk to Jasper again without him telling me to suck a dick or something. I wish I could come home with Emmett without being afraid that I'll see you there. And lunch at school fucking sucks," she blurted without skipping a beat.

I smiled, the muscles in my face tightening as it stretched up to my eye sockets. "Okay," I agreed. "Best friends? Forever and ever?"

"And ever," Rose promised, holding out a pinky. "God, we sound like fucking morons."

"And that's the beauty of it," I laughed, linking my pinky with hers.

*

I left the Hales without the leftover side effects from post-coital Jasper Hale euphoria, but I _did _leave with a new picture frame and a new sense of confidence.

But now I was left with the hard part. Bella. Fuck. Bella, Bella, Bella. It was up to me to help my brother reconcile with her. I guess I owed it to him. I guess I owed it to both of them. But in the end, it was up to me.

I guess you could say that i was damned if I did, damned if I didn't.

*

**so? comments? hm. REVIEW. please (:  
just to let you know, my song for next chapter is killer. i'm writing it now, so it will be up soon. the fact that this story is sort of close to being over saddens me. holler at me, babes.**


	24. Getting Over It

**Finally, the day has come! You guys had better give me some reviews, even if you hate this chapter, because it does a heart good to come back after a short hiatus to people who are really nice and take the extra step to let me know if what I'm doing is really worth the while. Hopefully this doesn't disappoint. Keep in mind that this is sort of a transitional chapter, but I hope you still enjoy it like any other chapter. Only a few chaps left, ladies and gents!** **(**Well, primarily ladies (: **)**  
**song: ghost under rocks **by rarariot

**EPOV**

My pillowcase was cold. It brushed angrily against my cheek as I sprawled across my mattress, completely still except for my steady breathing. The window across from me was fogged slightly, raindrops rolling across the pane at a glacial pace. I took a deep breath, rolling from my stomach to my back and staring at the ceiling. It was better than watching the storm.

I'd been cooped up in my room for two days, basically surviving off Gatorade and those little Ritz cracker things, leaving only to run downstairs and take a piss. Then I just wound up in the same position: flat on my stomach and staring out the goddamn window. The rest of winter break after Christmas Day was crawling by, and Bella still hadn't reacted the way that I somewhat expected her to. I kept my phone clutched in my hand for a solid forty-eight hours after Alice went to see her, waiting for her to call so I could beg her for forgiveness and so that we could be together again. Maybe I was kidding myself. Maybe the things that I'd said to her were too much for her to take, too much for her to forgive. But I still hoped.

Alice had come in a couple of times since then to talk to me, chattering away across the room as she sat on the black leather sofa and assuring me that all Bella needed was time. How she knew that, I didn't know. Alice had no real way of knowing exactly what was in the wooden box or anything that was written in that stupid fucking letter, but then again, she was famous for prying. The thought irritated me, but not enough to say anything about it. She'd rub my hair and skip out of the room, trying to hide the sympathy that she undoubtedly held for me.

There wasn't really anything she could do until Bella came back. If she ever did.

"Ed!" Emmett called from the hallway outside my door. He rapped twice before opening it, sticking his head inside. "Care if I come in?"

"You will anyway, even if I do," I snorted, dragging my eyes from the ceiling to his face. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, failing to meet my gaze as he ignored my attitude. I swallowed nervously at his sullen expression. "What's going on?"

He sighed, dragging his feet as he crossed the room the sit on the end of my bed. Kicking off his tennis shoes, for once, he propped his feet up on the pillow next to me. Something told me to let him explain rather than to punch him for having his feet so close to my face. "I told them not to make me do this," he said quietly, scratching his head. He said nothing more, pulling his eyebrows together and staring at his own feet.

"Told who? I don't understand," I said, my tone colored with frustration.

"Dad told me to come talk to you," he muttered, his brown eyes more old and tired than I'd ever seen them. "I told him I couldn't do it, but he said that I would do the best job, because I'm the oldest."

Panic swallowed me. Something was wrong. "Spit it out," I spat through clenched teeth, sitting up rigidly. It was always fucking _something_. There was always something to be worried about in this house. Something bad was always happening. The racing feeling that such moments inspired in my chest had become normality to me.

"I'm sorry, Edward," Emmett whispered. He picked at a hole in his sock, sniffling. "I'm sorry."

My throat closed, my breath speeding. "Emmett, just tell me," I begged, my breath raspy. "You have to tell me what's happening. I know it's hard for you, but I need to know."

Since we were little kids, Emmett was always the happy one. Esme had always said that he was my perfect counterpart, what with me being an emo bitch practically since birth. He made everything a little bit better for me, always. But now, as he sat beside me, he looked so ancient, so unlike himself. "You know that day that Dad took us to the Cape?" he asked quietly. "You remember how he told us about him?" he asked, his small voice cracking. I nodded, and he continued. "You know how he told us he had stage three lymphanela or whatever it's called?"

"Lymphoma," I corrected. "And how the fuck do you think I could forget?"

"Well, he told me to tell you something. He, uh, he told me to tell you that it's, um, it's worse now," he choked, his eyes swimming. His hands were grabbing at the knees of his jeans angrily, panicky whines building in his throat.

"Em, calm down," I pleaded, my own voice skipping across two octaves. "Pull it together, okay? Calm down, and explain what's happening." Honestly, I didn't know what the fuck was happening. I was about to rip my hair out as Emmett shook with hysterics, my discomfort at the intensity of the situation not quite outweighing the concern that I felt.

Emmett took another deep breath, trying to soothe himself, and met my eyes with a strange look of finality. "He went to the doctor last week and didn't mention it to anyone but Mom. I guess no one thought anything of it since he goes to the doctor a lot anyway. But the doctor told him they had to take him off chemo 'cause his stage got worse or something like that. He's been getting radiation now, since a couple of days ago. The chemo didn't work. It's making him real sick. Worse than before."

It took me a while to digest the information. I felt the familiar sense of dread built up inside of me, but my brain was frantically searching for solutions. "If it was that bad, why didn't they give him radiation to begin with? Wouldn't _he_ have thought about it?_ He's_ a fucking _doctor_!"

Emmett shrugged, fat tears still dripping from his chin and into his lap. "Beats me," he breathed, his chin quivering. "But they said they're putting him through it for three to four weeks. Five days a week. And if they can't beat it, he might only have up to six weeks."

"Six weeks to what?" I asked stupidly, already knowing the answer.

Emmett stared at me for a minute, his face suddenly emotionless as the fuzz of the room's silence consumed us. "To live," he answered, his quiet words somehow managing to echo tauntingly off the walls.

I gasped as I processed what he'd said, my thoughts too frantic and jumbled to display proper, rational emotion. "Where is he?" I spat. "Where is he? Where is he hiding? Why couldn't _he_ come up here, Emmett?"

_Study door. Study door. Study fucking door._

"He's tired," Emmett whispered, his face still empty. "He's just tired, Edward. We need to leave him alone for once. We need to be big kids, and suck it up. He can't hold our hands anymore. He's tired."

This room was edged in a cloudy red as it faded to a deep brown, and finally, to black.

I could feel the weight of my brother beside me, but still, I knew I was alone.

*

**BPOV**

I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to do with the goddamned box. It sat on my desk, staring at me. Whenever I closed my eyes to sleep, I couldn't because I knew that it was still sitting there. I hid it under my bed finally, waking from a terrible nightmare that it had inflated to thirty times its size and put a hole in the roof of my house, swallowing me inside of it along with Edward's pictures and keepsakes and apologies. I tried putting it in the closet, but that didn't help. I felt bad for it. I knew that my closet was dark and lonely, and I didn't want it to be alone.

Fuck. I was obsessing over inanimate objects.

Charlie was gone often, working. That left me to obsess over Edward's Christmas gift in the comfort of privacy, trying to stay away from it and then giving in by taking a peak. It hurt a little less every time I looked inside. It didn't sting as badly every time I read Edward's chicken scratch as it danced along the horizontal lines of the most beautiful letter anyone had ever written me. It was beautiful, but it wasn't a magical cure that could take back all of his words and rewind all of my actions. The pain of leaving him was still there, the memories of his fingers digging into my hips and his stubble scraping against my cheeks fresh in my mind. I knew that I was obsessed with the wooden box, and more importantly with its contents, but I tried to convince myself that I didn't care one way or another if Edward loved me. Because even though that wasn't true, I knew that I couldn't act irrationally. I couldn't just run to Edward every time his letter made my heart stop, or every time the picture of him at his house made me cry.

My heart was a fucking tennis ball. Or maybe it was like one of those little pink paddleball things. I wanted to go back to Edward, and then I didn't. I ached to have his face between my hands, and then I wanted nothing more but to smack him and hurt him as badly as he'd hurt me. It was exhausting.

So I let it sit. I let the wounds fester, and I let the box stay on my desk, taunting me. Maybe it was masochism, or maybe it was some sick sense of pleasure. A gross reminder of the man that I loved so desperately that I almost hated him. Hell if I knew. But what I _did_ know was that if Edward expected me to forgive him over a box of…stuff, then he was wrong. God, I was a proud little bitch.

I called Alice the morning after Christmas to apologize for my breakdown, and more importantly, to pry information from her about Edward. How was he feeling? Was he acting weird? Did she know what the letter had said? What was her opinion? But she never picked up. It was odd. Alice's phone was generally glued to her palm.

My phone rang that night a little after dinner, and I'd being lying if I said that I didn't run to it, my heart thumping unevenly as I checked the caller ID. I don't know whether I expected it to be Alice or Edward, but I shouldn't have been surprised when it wasn't. Contrarily, my heart began beating harder as I read the name over and over again on the screen, trying to make sure that my eyes weren't tricking me. Taking a shaky breath, I flipped open the phone, lifting it slowly to my ear.

"Rosalie?" I asked timidly, my old stammer finally unearthing itself after months. "What do you need?"

"Did you ever think that maybe I just wanted to call and chit-chat, Swan?" Rosalie droned disinterestedly on the other line, her velvety voice musical and more intimidating than ever.

"I don't know," I replied stupidly, wincing as soon as the words left my mouth.

Rosalie laughed to herself. "But maybe you're right in thinking that I need something, because I do. I _do_ always seem to have an agenda," she sighed, waiting for me to respond.

I played into her trap, knowing that there was no real way out of it. I felt like a new kid on the first day of Kindergarten. "What do you need help with?" I asked in a small voice.

"All that I need is for you to get your ass over to the Hale casa," she ordered. "And make it quick. This is important." Her last statement concerned me. She said those words in a more solemn tone than the way that she generally spoke, confident and flamboyant.

"Is something wrong?" I blurted. "Something with the Cullens?" I knew that that family was the only thing tying Rosalie and I together, and could be the only reason that she was inviting me over. I highly doubted that she wanted to braid each other's hair and have a slumber party.

"Just…get here. Okay?" she ordered impatiently, as if every second that the phone call lasted rattled her nerves.

"O-okay," I stammered, hanging up the phone before giving a proper goodbye. I ran to my desk, grabbing my keys and that stupid fucking box—for reasons unknown—and shoving them in my bag. Charlie wasn't home yet, so I scribbled a note explaining where I was on the whiteboard attached to the fridge and slipped through the front door to fire up the old Chevy.

*

**APOV**

"So Edward knows?" I asked Esme, swallowing roughly as a golf ball-sized lump formed in my throat. "Who told him?"

"Emmett," Esme answered. "Poor kid. Your dad called him into our room last night and asked him to do it. I thought he was going to pass out or cry. Or both."

I watched from the end of her bed as my mother glided the iron across one of Edward's dress shirts, steam rising and blurring the picture of the muted television behind her. "Why didn't you just tell him when you told me?" I asked quietly. Esme and Carlisle had pulled me aside the day before to tell me…the news. It was shocking, of course, and completely and utterly devastating. But I was used to it. Immune.

"Well, your dad was scared of how he'd react," Esme sighed. "But I think that since _you_ handled it so well your father was more comfortable with the entire situation. We tried not to avoid it. So the two of us figured that he had the right to know."

"So you made Emmett tell him," I said dryly, quirking an eyebrow. "I think that that qualifies as 'avoiding the situation,' Mom."

Esme took a deep breath, furrowing her eyebrows. "I know. But—God, I know." She stood there in thoughtful silence, leaning against the board as steam continued to rise from the iron's hot plate.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I didn't mean to upset you or anything. I'm just edgy. Now that things are getting even worse, I don't really know what to do with myself."

She still didn't speak as she stood there, her gaze fixed just over my head. A few silent moments passed before her eyes flickered to mine, her expression changing from regret to something very close to passion. "Why don't you try anymore?" she blurted.

"What?" I asked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"You are extremely talented, Alice," she whined, her voice rising from it's usual, buttery tone to a small sound like a child's. "What happened to art school? What happened to all of your dreams? Your plans for college? You are so talented," she repeated.

"I, I um…" I trailed off, at a loss for words. I shifted uncomfortably, bringing my legs underneath me.

Esme picked up the iron, gliding it roughly across my favorite cotton dress as she continued to stare at me with hard eyes and a set jaw. "Can I be honest with you?" I nodded. "This is _exactly_ what Carlisle and I wanted _not_ to happen. When he first…found out…about….well, _you know_, the very next thing he said was how he didn't want his circumstance to affect you and your brothers."

"Dad has _cancer_, Mom. It's not really something we can ignore."

"Just _listen_ to me!" she snapped, stepping back with the iron still in her grasp, hanging by her side. "You're not even the same anymore. You're not my little girl, happy and excited and independent and full of potential. You've just…given up. You've given up, Alice."

"I haven't!" I protested, though I knew as soon as she spoke the words that she was right.

"You have," she insisted, ripping the chord of the iron to release the plug from the outlet. She left the pile of still-wrinkled clothes in the chair by the TV, jerking the chord across the carpet and dropping the iron to the board with a _thump_. "Where has Rose been, Alice? She's your _best friend_. Where has she been through all of this? You've quit the things you love. You're alone, all the time. Always. You're either alone, or with Jasper. What happened to you?"

I felt a lump of ice form in my throat, my eyes welling with defensive tears. "Nothing happened to me," I croaked, hanging my head.

My mother was quiet, only the sounds of our breathing filling the room for a few beats. After a moment, I heard her feet shuffling towards me. I felt her weight drop beside me on the bed, just far enough away so we weren't touching. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"'Sokay," I murmured, the wetness of my eyes not quite thick enough to spill over. "You didn't say anything that wasn't true."

"That doesn't make it any better."

"It's alright. I know. I'm a zombie," I said, my voice cracking pathetically.

Her fingers, soft as feathers, tightened around my wrist that was flopped hopelessly in my lap. "Everything will be fine, Alice. I promise."

"You don't have to lie to me, Mom. I'm a big girl. I can handle it. I'm _used_ to this."

"Stop!" she said harshly, her grip tightening slightly. "This is what I was _just_ talking about. When you're like this, it doesn't help your father. It hurts him. It makes him feel like this is all his fault, that he's tearing our family apart."

"That's not true, though!" I piped up, meeting her eyes. "He can't help this."

"Then stop making him feel like he can," she answered, her mouth in a tight line. She released my wrist, flopping her own hand to her leg as we both sat in pensive stillness. "I love you, Alice," she said quietly. It caught me off guard.

"You do?" I wanted to slap myself for sounding so weak, so hopeful.

"I don't tell you enough," she sighed, brushing her hands against her skirt. "I actually can't remember the last time I told you that. I haven't been there for you like I should be."

"You do the best you can," I said.

"My best is not good enough, I'm afraid," she said sadly.

"Maybe not," I relented, giving a weak smile.

"But I do. Love you, I mean. I want to help you. I want you to help me. I want you to be my daughter, like you used to be, and not just someone who lives in my house with my DNA and my last name. You worry more than any girl your age should. He's going to be able to fight this, Alice."

I sighed heavily, cuffing my hand around the back of my neck as I leaned forward on my elbow. "He's been fighting this, Mom. For months. And it's only getting worse."

"We're going to help him," she said, her tone thick with zeal as her eyes brightened fiercely. "He's going to fight it. _We're_ going to fight it. And this will be over. We can live our lives again. This will be _over_."

I felt like she was partly speaking to solely to herself, finding an inkling of inspiration from her own words.

She grasped my hand once again tightly, tears spilling over her high cheekbones.

*

**BPOV**

My hand was shaking when I reached to ring the doorbell. An uneven thumping pounded in my chest as I clutched a hand to my heart in anxious anticipation. It felt like twelve thousand years before the front door was opened.

"Hey, Jasper?" I asked when the blue front door was opened to reveal his familiar figure, standing just behind the threshold. "Why aren't you with Alice?"

"Come in, Bella," he answered simply, his tone dry and unsurprised. In that moment, it all sunk in. Whatever this was, whatever I was about to go through, Jasper was in on. _Jasper and Rose are holding an intervention, _I thought nervously to myself.

I followed him through the foyer, past the dining room and into the sunken den. I hadn't been there since that first week of school with Alice and…and Edward. I was barely even the same person now that I was then. The difference between the two occasions was crippling.

Jasper plopped lazily into a blue armchair, slinging his long, gangly legs over its arm and scratching at his wild mane of curly, blonde hair. "Rose!" he hollered, his voice echoing off of the paneled walls. "Swan is here!"

I stood awkwardly in the center of the room, my arms crossed in my dad's old, tan jacket and my hair damp from the outside rain. A minute later, Rosalie entered, in all of her blonde-haired, blue-eyed glory.

"For fuck's sake, Jasper, you could've invited her to sit down," she chastised, shooting her brother a threatening sneer that I knew all too well.

"Well then, Bella, by all means, I invite you to sit down," he droned, throwing an arm over her eyes as if to block out the minimal amount of muted light coming in from outside. Rosalie scoffed as I shuffled silently to the couch against the far wall, pulling my knees defensively to my chin.

"Shoes off the leather, Swan," Rosalie snapped, sitting primly in an arm chair directly across from me. "You're not at the YMCA."

A sound scraped through my teeth—sounding very much like a lost puppy—as I kicked my shoes off and straightened them so they were even with one another. "Sorry," I muttered, my stomach doing little flips. Rosalie's stare made me feel very much like pre-Edward Bella. I didn't like it.

"I'd generally give you a harder time, but your less than perfect manners aren't really the whole point of this little tête-à-tête," Rosalie said sternly, raising one perfect, light brow.

"Uh, Rose?" Jasper asked, his voice muffled by his arm. "Technically you're fancy French terminology is null-and-void considering that I'm a by-standing third party." He raised the arm not covering his face in the air for emphasis. I tried to hold back the giggle building in my throat.

"If you're not going to be helpful, then just leave," she hissed. She crossed her insanely thin legs, smoothing the dark, expensive-looking denim that covered them. "Shall we begin?" she asked impatiently, turning her attention back to me.

I nodded quickly, swallowing.

"Good," she chirped, somehow managing to inject a lethal dosage of venom into one seemingly innocent word. "I have two bases I need to cover. One of them, Jasper might have to help with, considering I haven't been able to fully understand Emmett the last few times I've spoken to him."

I squinted my eyes curiously, cocking my head to the side. "What do you mean?"

She waved a hand dismissively, but there was still something wrong with her expression. "We'll get to that soon, little Bella. But first things first."

"Rose, this part really doesn't qualify as a 'first thing,'" Jasper argued, lifting his arm from his face to make air quotes. He straightening in his seat, his attention more focused. It made me uncomfortable to have the two of them staring at me with a mixture of…what was it? Concern from Jasper…and something indecipherable from Rose.

"Pipe down," Rose said to her brother through clenched teeth, her eyes still not leaving my face. "First, I need to talk to Bella about Alice. We need to establish a few things."

"Like?" I asked, still thoroughly confused. I began to wring my fingers nervously.

"Well, my two bases really melt into one. And it all starts with the fact that I kind of…_reestablished_ my relationship with her the other day."

"Right before Alice was gonna _reestablish_ her cooch on my dick," Jasper interjected crudely, earning another death stare from Rose. Luckily, she didn't get too entirely distracted. The interruptions made me even more anxious.

"I haven't been there for her," Rose said, a trace of sadness in her expression. "I've been there for Emmett the best that I can, but I think Alice was a little…"

"Creeped out?" I offered, biting down on my lip as her brows pulled together. "Sorry," I said quickly. "She just said something to me a few times about you being with her brother and how it was weird for her."

"Well…yes. That," she said. "But I feel like I need to tell you that…I, uh, I need her, Bella. I need her as my best friend. I don't have any other ones."

"Because you're a bitch," Jasper muttered. We both ignored him again.

"Why are you telling me this?" I murmured, looking down at my hands.

"Because you love her, and so do I," Rose whispered back, her façade fully dropping as her tone turned almost to one of pleading. "I want my best friend back. I've known her all my life. And I've missed her."

"Did you talk about everything?" I asked. "Like, about her and Jasper and you and Emmett? Is everything fixed? Sorry if I'm prying."

"Goddamn it, Bella, would you stop apologizing?" she almost laughed.

"Sorry," I blushed. "Oops! Sorry!"

She chuckled a hard laugh. "You're ridiculous." We all sat there for a minute, collecting our thoughts. Or at least, they were. I still had no idea what the fuck was going on. "I know that you think I don't like you," she spoke again, earning a quiet snicker from Jasper. "I mean, I _didn't_. Not for a while. But I realized something the other day."

"What's that?" I prompted, trying to relax into the sofa. My body wasn't cooperating.

"That you're a nice person," she laughed. "You're not so bad. Sure, you're inept and boring and also possibly socially retarded, but you're not so bad."

"Thanks," I grimaced. "I think."

"Sorry, that was kind of harsh," she relented, pushing up the sleeves of her dark red sweater. "What I'm trying to say is that…well, I got jealous. Jealous that you were stealing my friend, and angry that there was nothing I could do about it."

"W-what? You were jealous? Of _me_?" I stammered, my eyes widening.

"I know, I know. Hard to believe," she grinned with slight amusement. "But I want to make everything work. I want us to get along. For Alice. For all of the Cullens. They need us." Then she smiled. And she _really_ smiled, and it wasn't her trademark half-smile _I know something you don't know_ bitch grin. It was one of almost comradeship. We were in the exact same boat, and she recognized it. Or rather, we _had _been in the same position.

"This is only for Alice," I muttered, my heart filling with dread. "She's the only one I can support anymore."

"No, Swan, this is for everyone. I almost enjoy you. You're funny. I think that if I try, I might learn to be friends with you. But we're doing this for all of them," she said, her voice filled with determination.

"But Edward--," I began.

"_But Edward_ nothing," Rose interrupted. "I know everything, Bella. I am with Emmett, after all. Given Em's still not your number one fan, but I still know the story. And just because you and Edward had a little falling out because you're both so goddamn stubborn doesn't mean you get out of anything. You're still in this as deep as you were before."

"That's not true," I said solemnly. "I've become irrelevant. And now I guess Emmett hates me too. I'm only in it for Alice."

Rosalie rolled her eyes, scoffing noisily. "Oh, Bella, quit with the fucking drama. We all know that Edward loves you. He loves you, and your fugly man jackets, and how your hair smells like cheap fruit-scented grocery store brand shampoo, and how you blush and trip and other irritating shit like that. Alice isn't the _only_ one who knows about that letter he wrote you."

I blushed, biting down on my lip with so much force that I almost drew blood.

"And Emmett only hates you because he thinks that you broke his brother's heart," she said matter-of-factly, inspecting her cuticles. "I tried to tell him that you just kind of fucked and ducked and that Edward lied to you and stuff, but he wouldn't listen."

"_How_ do you _know_ all of this?" I gasped, my face heating and my heart thumping irregularly.

"Jesus, Bella," Rose snorted. "_Where_ did you learn to think that I don't find out absolutely _everything_? I'm omnipotent, sweetheart."

Jasper choked out one hard laugh, flipping open a magazine and sifting through it with a crooked smile.

"You think he really loves me though?" I asked in a small voice.

"Fucking _duh_. He only wrote it like, five thousand times in the little diary entry he gave you," she droned, rolling her eyes.

_Fucking Alice_, I swore to myself. _No one should ever let her handle personal_ _possessions_.

"So we're good?" Rosalie asked, her eyes widening. "Can we cooperate? We can be co-presidents of the _Make Alice Happy Even If You Think I'm A Heartless Bitch And I Think You're A Sheltered, Mousy Little Baby Club_."

"I guess I'll take it," I smiled, shrugging. "It's better than nothing."

"For now." Rosalie grinned. Her expression held promise. But suddenly, her smile faded into a frumpy frown, far too sullen for Rosalie's beautiful face. "And now I guess this is the part where Jasper comes in."

I looked to Jasper. The magazine was now closed in his lap, his back rigid and his navy eyes flat and one-dimensional. "I forgot for a minute," he muttered.

"Me too," Rosalie whispered, her voice cracking.

"You forgot what?" I asked, my anxiousness from earlier suddenly returning.

"The main reason you're here. The main reason we made nice," Rosalie responded, her small attempt at humor failing miserably.

"Bella, we need you," Jasper mumbled, scratching his neck. "You're the only other person who understands what's going on."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"The Cullens all have to work together," Jasper answered. "They depend on each other. And the three of us are just sort of there for them individually. Now we need to work together. Try to help each other. It's time to stop being selfish, Bella. They need us."

"Something's happened," Rose blurted, a crease forming between her eyebrows and one, delicate hand covering her mouth.

The change in the atmosphere was drastic. Before it had been uncomfortable, slowly easing into something less awkward as Rosalie let down her cool and spoke to me as if I were a human being rather than an object in her path that she could simply kick aside. But now…it was different. Almost like someone had flipped a switch, their faces were solemn and sort of reverent. Something was wrong.

"We should have just told her this first, Rose," Jasper said quietly.

Rose sighed. "I was trying to put it off. I've been trying not to think about it."

"_What _is it?!" I shouted, jumping at the sound of my own frustration. I hadn't meant to explode that way. It just…happened.

Rose swallowed and looked at me, Jasper's eyes down at his feet. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

Something came back to me in that moment. "What were you saying earlier?" I asked. "About Emmett? About not being able to understand him when you spoke to him?"

Rosalie opened her mouth again, closing it and reopening it a few times before any sound came out. "He's been sobbing. Sobbing like a baby. I can only make out a few words here and there. It hurts me to think about it. I called Alice three times this morning, and she answered once telling me she couldn't talk and to call later."

My stomach dropped, dread falling over me as I considered the possibilities. I knew Carlisle still had to have been alive. Things would have been a lot less casual if that were the case. But some many things could have been wrong—all of the options were crippling.

"Just tell me," I begged. "Please, just tell me."

Jasper's mouth straightened into a tight purse, his eyes darkening so that they were almost black. The lamp beside him bathed half of his face in light while the other half remained in shadow, a shiver shooting down my spine. "Carlisle's worse," he said simply.

Rosalie let out a loud, harsh exhale, dropping her face to her hands. She looked almost...human.

"What do you mean, worse?" I asked. My voice cracked miserably as my blood stilled in my veins.

"He's getting sicker, Bell. It's getting really bad." His words were simple, but somehow, that made things worse.

"I don't understand," I lied.

"What's so hard about it?" Rose piped up, lifting her face to narrow her eyes. "Carlisle. Is. Worse. It's not difficult, Swan."

I looked at my feet, swallowed in lumpy, oatmeal colored socks, searching for words to say. "What does this mean now?" I choked out, my throat closing and making my breaths and words nearly strangled.

"It means we've gotta stick together, start helping," Jasper answered slowly, thoughtfully. "Emmett and Al have known for a little while. Edward just found out today."

My eyes brimmed with tears, the image of him as a little boy outside of his white house in my mind, smiling and carefree. The image faded and darkened into how he was now, resentful and hurting and...and alone. Without me. Dry sobs ripped loudly from my chest. I didn't even try to hide my face. "Edward," I whispered, wiping at the sticky trails my sorrow left along my cheeks.

"Will be fine, if you help him," Rosalie said. She tossed her hair behind one shoulder, bringing her elbows to her knees as she leaned forward on her palms. "So you need to help yourself by helping him. I know you love him, Swan. So be there for him. Stop all this fucking selfishness and get the hell over it. "

"At least do it for Alice," Jasper croaked, his expression clouding. I wanted to hug him. He looked so passionate as he spoke, his eyes softening infinitesmally at the mention of her name.

I stood abruptly from the couch, jamming my feet into my sneakers as my socks ballooned over the tops of them. "I need to go, right now," I spat, blood spilling into my cheeks as they flamed. My nose was running, and it was kind of disgusting, but I was far passed caring. The only place that my mind was was in the front seat of my truck, behind the wheel.

"Where are you going?" Rosalie asked, raising her eyebrows in disapproval.

"I'm leaving," I said, my voice strong. "I'm going there. I'm going to him, right now."

"I'm not so sure that's a good--," Jasper began.

"I _have _to do this, Jasper," I interrupted, zipping my coat up and exiting the room in one swift motion.


	25. Hug

**Hey guys! Here you go. I'm sorry for the delay. I've written a new one-shot called 'Through His Eyes.' Check it out. Sorry for any typos. Let me know what you think.**  
song: **your legs grow by nada surf**

* * *

**EPOV**

"You're okay, aren't you?" Carlisle's voice was smooth and even. I looked up at him from my open book, studying his face.

He was perched on the edge of my leather sofa where he'd become an almost permanent fixture, his eyes soft. I took a deep breath, looking back to the paragraph I'd read about a dozen times in a row.

"I think so," I breathed, nodding. "It was a lot to take at first, but…I think so."

Carlisle opened his mouth to respond, taking a sharp gasp of air before snapping his jaw closed. He waited a beat before trying to speak again. "I thought you'd be angry that I didn't tell you myself."

I had been. When Emmett had come to me the day before, fat tears in his brown eyes, I had been devastated. Furious. But…I got over it.

It was strange to me. I was so used to caring _too _much, getting _too _angry. But I remember this one time when I was really little and Esme had taken Em and I into town to drop a package off at the post office, and an ice cream truck drove by. Emmett had gotten some ridiculous Popsicle in the shape of an action figure, but I, with my superior taste, had opted for the sno-cone with the gum ball at the bottom. Somewhere along the way, Emmett had tripped me and my sno-cone had gone catapulting through the sky, landing in a frosty mess all over the sidewalk. And boy, did I cry. I cried for _hours_. Hours and hours of snotty, teary mess, my mother smoothing my hair and rocking me in her lap. "I'm just going to let him cry it out," she'd whispered to my dad, her hand clamped over my ear as if I couldn't hear what she was saying. But she was right—eventually I'd cried so hard for so long that I was drained out. Eventually, I calmed down, forgetting about the sno-cone and drifting off into a sleep, and I never thought of it again. Until last night.

I felt like I was small again, and I'd been crying for so long that I was completely and totally…dry. I was spent.

Carlisle had been sick for a long time. I was used to it. I was also used to being selfish, whiny, childish. So as I lay with my face buried in my pillow, Emmett's weight removed from the foot of my bed, it _clicked_. I wouldn't cry. I wouldn't yell, or complain, or insult. I would just _deal_.

"I was mad at first," I murmured, dog-earing the page I left off on and throwing the book to the floor with a soft _thunk_. "But you didn't do anything wrong, Dad. Why would I be angry?"

He raised his brows, or at least, where his brows had been, his hand skimming the top of his naked scalp as he gaped. "You're…you're not mad with me? I don't, er, have to apologize to you?"

I chuckled, crossing my ankles. "No, you don't have to apologize to me."

"Well this is easier than I thought it would be," he laughed, flabbergasted. "I had a full speech prepared."

"If it would make you feel better, you can recite it to me," I offered, grinning.

"I'd rather not," he said, smiling. His mouth loosened, turning into a small frown. "Is there anything you're…you know, curious about?"

I scratched my neck, thinking. Sure, there were thousands of things I was curious about. Millions, even. But a small part of me told me that maybe I didn't want to know all of the answers for once.

"I don't think so," I answered firmly, meeting his eyes. "I'm going to try and take all of this as it comes."

"When did you get so level-headed, son?" Carlisle said with a laugh. "I'm used to you yelling, or breaking things, or carving holes in my door."

My cheeks burned as a mental image formed in my head of me those few months ago, chucking away at Carlisle's study door. How different I'd been then..

I shrugged. "It kind of…I don't know…came to me. I realized that, no matter what, shit's gonna happen. It's going to happen, even if I do all of those things. So I've got to deal with it. It's life."

Carlisle beamed, his eyes twinkling. "You are so mature, in so many ways," he said quietly.

I tore my eyes from him, a strange kind of embarrassment crawling up my spine. The way he was looking at me made me feel almost appreciated. It creeped me out. "I'm just acting the way I should have all along," I replied, my eyes in my lap.

Silence passed between us, the sound of steady rain and the hum of the air conditioning permeating the room.

"I'm getting pretty sick, Edward," Carlisle said suddenly.

A lump of ice formed in my chest, causing my breath to catch in my throat as I was suddenly caught off guard. "We don't have to talk about it," I mumbled.

"I just…I want you to know. Just so nothing is sudden," he whispered. "You're taking everything so well, and it makes me nervous."

His words bathed me in guilt. _He_ was worried about _me_. He was battling cancer, and he was worried about _me_. He was concerned because I was acting maturely rather than my characteristic ass-like tendencies. What was _wrong_ with me?

"Don't be," I pleaded. "I don't know what to say. It's just, I mean, look at how far we've come?" He smiled. "I don't mean to get all gushy on you, because that's just fucking gay. But I remember when I wouldn't have cared if this was happening to you, to be honest. If you had told me you were this bad five months ago, I would have waved you out of the door with a 'good riddance' and a stiff kick in the pants. But look at us, Dad. This is how it should have always been."

He continued to smile, his blue eyes liquid and solemn. "I wish you wouldn't talk like that," he said. "You speak like everything is so…final."

"It kind of is," I choked. "Em says it's bad."

Carlisle nodded. "It is. But it's beatable, son."

"Do you really think so?"

"I've seen a battle such as mine beaten before, Edward. I'm going to try, as hard as I can."

"We need you, Dad."

"And I need you all just the same."

We stared at one another from opposite sides of the room, understanding flowing between us like it never had. Then something happened.

Carlisle stood from the couch, his muscles tensed, and I assumed he was going to leave the room. Our conversation had left off at an odd place, and it hadn't really been finished, but he had a habit of doing that. He crossed the room towards me very swiftly then, my eyebrows lowering with confusion. I sat up in alarm as he approached me, throwing my legs over the side of the bed.

And…_what_? Carlisle's hand shoved below my right armpit, wrapping his arm around my back as his other went over my shoulder. He lifted me from where I sat, planting me on my feet as he squeezed me to his chest.

A hug.

I tensed before returning the embrace, my mouth hanging open all the while as I tried to process what was happening. My father was hugging me. _My father was hugging me_.

"I…I love you, Edward," he said gruffly, patting my back once with his left hand.

"I, um, love you too, Dad," I replied, my voice reaching a strange octave as shock coursed through my veins.

And then, as quickly as he'd wrapped his arms around my shoulders, he released me, and promptly left the room.

I thought about the hug for what seemed like forever.

Carlisle and I never did that. We never touched if we could help it. Every night that he had come to sit on my couch and speak to me, he left with only a quiet "good night," if that. When I'd taken him to my white house, he hadn't touched me at all. The last time I remembered him hugging me, I was nine, and it was on my birthday. But it was only a half-hug, for picture-taking purposes. But this, this had been strange. It was…well, it was a nice goddamn gesture. It almost made me happy.

Carlisle was very sick. Worse, substantially so. If I'd thought everything was in perspective before, I'd been wrong. I saw his life as something different. It wasn't a dwindling hour glass, a few grains of sand left in the top portion before it was too late. I saw it as a span of time, still limited, but open to endless possibilities. I couldn't make up for seventeen years in five weeks, but I could try. I knew the one place I wanted to take my father, just in case he wasn't going to be around for much longer.

The thought, while almost tragically depressing, inspired me. I found myself smiling, daydreaming. It was hideously ironic.

I padded down the stairs after my stomach began growling loudly, running my fingers along the wall as I climbed down both flights. Loud sounds of burning rubber and Emmett's howling echoed into the kitchen from the family room as I dug around the pantry for a bag of chips, causing a stupid smile to spread on my face as I headed towards the noise. It was nice to hear Emmett laugh, considering he'd been sobbing for days after learning about Carlisle's worsened condition. He almost couldn't talk to Rosalie over the phone, he was crying so hard. Alice had to fucking tell her what had happened.

Carlisle was sitting on the couch in the den with Emmett playing his stupid X-box game, both of their expressions nearly identical as they wove through dark streets collecting hookers and stealing cars.

"Edward," Carlisle acknowledged without looking away from the screen. "You can play winner."

"He means, you can play _me_," Emmett teased, running his yellow Porsche into a guardrail and sending a flurry of orange, poorly animated sparks into the night air.

"In your _dreams_," Carlisle snickered. He fiddled with his controller for a moment before Emmett groaned, throwing his arms into the air and letting out a string of hushed expletives.

"Language," Carlisle chided before pivoting to face me. "What are you up to, Edward?"

I popped a chip into my mouth, crunching loudly before opening my mouth to answer. "Are you guys busy?"

"What did you have in mind?" Emmett asked, raising an eyebrow.

I licked the generic cheese powder from my fingertips, peeking out of the south windows that took up the entire back wall of our home. Carlisle liked the light.

"Well, it's not dark yet. Do you guys…um, want to go somewhere? Like, the house?" They knew which house I was talking about.

"But it's raining," Emmett said quickly.

"Esme won't know where we've gone," Carlisle piped in.

I shrugged. "Alice is home. She can tell Mom we're gone for a while," I explained, trying to sound enthusiastic.

Emmett looked at Carlisle with questioning eyes. Carlisle seemed to deliberate for a moment, Em and I waiting for response. Finally, he nodded.

"Sure," he said suddenly. "Let me just get my shoes on."

*

Everything was falling into place.

I tried not to let myself think about how it could very well be the last time that my father, Emmett, and I all went to the house together. It was too fucking awesome to ruin.

Carlisle was extra attentive now. But it wasn't annoying or forced like before. I liked it. He was around a lot, completely home from work and showing up for dinner the second Esme threw it on the table.

I felt normal.

I can't explain it, or even rationalize it. But I felt…man, I dunno, new. I felt at peace.

And I think it all snapped in my head when Bella never called. I was freaking out all day and night, lashing out on Alice and staring at the goddamned phone screen, willing for it to light up with her name and number. It was borderline pathetic, and I'd seen it a hundred times on fucking stupid Drew Barrymore movies and semi-retarded, superficial sitcoms. Except for the person waiting by the phone was always a fucking _female_.

Eventually, I got tired. Physically, I mean. My eyes were fluttering shut and my limbs were heavy with sleep. _But wait!_ I would shout in my head. _What if she calls while I'm asleep? What if I miss it? What if it's the only chance I get?_

That's when I started the first pot of coffee.

Yes, I stayed up. All. Fucking. Night. Not a single call. Not a single text with the utterly Bella-like smiley faces all over the place. Nothing.

And I was tired.

That's when it clicked. At least, I think that's when it was. I was sitting up in my bed, my eyes the weight of bowling balls, staring at the black leather couch with a silent telephone in my hand. I realize that I would have to sleep eventually. I couldn't live my life waiting for her to call me back.

I fucked up. There is no real other way to say it. I fucking fucked shit up, and what was done was done. I was hopelessly obsessed with Bella, and that was still true, but I knew, deep inside of my…_heart_ or whatever—shit motherfuck, I am such a woman—that I eventually would have to sleep. I would eventually have to let it go. I couldn't make her come back to me.

So I tried to let it go.

I drifted off into the deepest, most fucking amazing sleep I'd had in months.

And when I woke up, it was all new.

Thank fucking Jesus for Winter Break, though. It prevented me from having to skip like a three-year-old and it let me stay at home for a while until I had to see Bella again. Things were better, but my feelings weren't gone. I would always have them, I just had to shove them into the back of my mind.

My Bella epiphany was strangely relevant to my Daddy issues. We'd been back to the house twice in two days.

And now it was Friday, the day before New Years' and three days before school started, and I was going back to that damned house again. Because, even though I was dealing with things, I needed some place where Bella and I were still _alive_. Some place that I had declared as ours, even though she rejected it.

I had written to her that I could never go back to the house again. I hadn't been lying—I really thought that I wouldn't be able. But it turned out to be some sick kind of therapy for me. I could swear to God that I could smell her in the air.

It was raining, like fucking always, but I still left the confines of my house and set off into the woods to forget for a while.

Carlisle was taking a nap, anyway.

*

**BPOV**

I pulled the truck over on the shoulder four times before I finally made it.

This was going to be harder than I thought.

With each changing moment, floods of recollection hit me like a sack of bricks. It made me question everything, even myself, and the feeling was excruciating.

How had I gotten to this point? Why did things have to be this way? What if Edward had never liked me in the first place and I was still the weirdo with the chinchilla shit rain stick and he was still dealing with everything on his own? What if I'd never slept with him or lied to him or what if I never learned the truth? Or worse…what if Carlisle had died while Edward and I were still avoiding one another, and I had to harbor that guilt forever?

I'd come so far.

As I parked, my lungs exploding and my forehead smacking against the steering wheel, I remembered. I remembered my first night alone in Charlie's house, and the sound of Edward's wet sneakers hitting the wood of my bedroom floor. I remembered the feeling of his lips on mine, the sound of his voice as we talked together outside of the mangled oak of his father's office door. I remembered the first drive home from school, and when he'd defended me against Rosalie, and when he'd treated me so gently that night I found myself between his sheets even though I didn't deserve it.

I remembered the scratch of his tone when he'd called me a whore.

I should have never come to Forks. I had fallen so irrationally and deeply in love with a cranky, bronze-headed boy who couldn't get his shit together that I was destroying everything like mother fucking Godzilla. It was disgusting. But somehow, for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to regret the decision I'd made to move to Washington. It brought me to Edward. And as I willed myself to refasten my seatbelt and trying to push myself another few miles down the road, I knew that I would take him, rich or poor, healthy or cancer-ridden, happy or fucking messed up, everyday for the rest of my life. No questions asked, no turning back.

And it was incredibly fucked up that it took me so long to realize this.

He might not even take me back. He'd given me the wooden box on Christmas Day, and I had let him sit around wondering for days until finally, I swallowed my stupid goddamn pride. I hated myself for needing the excuse of Carlisle getting worse. Maybe Edward would think that all of my impulses were driven by the condition of his father.

But I guess that our entire relationship was based off of growing up, impulses, and ever-changing perspectives.

Now here I was.

I'd stopped twice on the three-mile driveway, my breathing shallow as the rain pelted against the windshield. I knew the drive so well that I left my wipers off, using the greens and blues of the rain-smeared blur trailing across the glass pane to calm myself down.

_Why is this so hard? He's probably not even there. But what if he is? Then what?  
_

I had no idea why I was stalling. Oh, _that's_ right. I remember now.

Edward had given me a gift, begging for me back, and I'd ignored it. Of course, I stared at it at every opportunity, but _he_ didn't know that. So, by now, I was dead to him. And if he saw me, there's no way in hell he'd forgive me now. I'd wronged him twice in a row, and Edward was the most stubborn fucker to ever roam the earth.

But I _loved_ it.

And if I failed, well…I don't know what I'd do.

This was all because of _me_. I was always fucking things up, from the very beginning. I fucked up Alice's perfect life and Edward's reputation and Jasper's tough guy front. I'd fucked up Rosalie's little exclusive group of friends and Jessica's seating arrangement and the whole fucking Cullen family. I'd fucked up everything.

So now I was crawling back.

_Dear Jesus, Please make this like the prodigal son situation and make Edward let me come back. Except for not in the creepy father-son kind of way, but more like a controlled-by-hormones boyfriend/girlfriend kind of way. Love, Bella._

I don't know how I got there, but my feet hit doormat and I was staring at the brass knocker to the Cullen house. It was all kind of a blackout—my eyes probably weren't even open. I almost chickened out and turned back, but it had taken me just over an hour rather than the typical twenty minutes to get there, and there was no way in hell I was going back now. My future was on the other side of that door.

Funny how the mind allows you to think of so many things at once when under extreme pressure.

As the knocker fell back against the brass, I stared in fear and preparation as I waited for it to open, praying that it wouldn't just slam back in my face as soon as I was recognized. As I watched the threshold, I thought of something.

Doors. Doors had so much to fucking do with my life. My world, formerly so desperately intertwined with Edward's, had always been restricted on one side of the door.

Carlisle's study door. The one thing keeping Edward away for seventeen years. Edward's door, keeping his father away. My door. Forced to stay shut at night, bringing Edward through the window and his arms around my waist. Alice's door. Hiding her from her brothers the first day she knew. Rosalie's door. Keeping me hesitant yet on my toes for a devastating minute as I waited for my fate. The doors of my school. They had been so heavy as I sprinted, my eyes searching for Edward only to see the glow of his taillights as he sped away from me. Edward's car door. I loved the quiet click of it, no matter how hard you slammed it. It made a lump rise in my throat as I remembered our drives home together, his hand on my knee.

And now this one. It was laughing at me as panic exuded from every pore. It was holding me back, taunting me. _I know what's on the other side, and you don't_, I could almost hear it scream. No wonder Edward destroyed the one from Carlisle's study.

It took hours for it to finally open. Or so it seemed.

"Bella?" Esme's voice was so soft and sweet that I nearly cried at the sound of it. I had missed it so much.

A smile took up half her face, her eyes gleaming as she lunged forward to pull me tightly into her warm arms. "Bella," she breathed. Her hair smelled like cookies. "We've missed you. All of us."

I pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. "I doubt that," I chuckled darkly, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill.

Esme's face fell, her eyes darkening as she searched my face for something. She frowned deeply, pulling me back against her and squeezing me one last time.

"I mean it, Bella," she said quietly. "We want you around."

I forced a smile, which probably looked more like a grimace. "Thanks, Esme. Is, um, is Edward home?" I immediately felt like a child, going to a friend's house to ask them to play. Except for this was so much different, so much more painful, that the irony almost made me laugh out loud. Almost.

Her lips straightened into a hard line as she crossed her arms, shivering as the light mist from outside blew against her. "He's gone," she said simply. She was telling the truth; I could tell.

"Where is he?" I asked, my voice whiny as the lump in my throat tightened.

She seemed to deliberate for a moment, brushing one, slender hand against her impossibly high cheekbone. Her wedding ring sparkled against her bony finger.

"He's…" she began, clearing her throat. "Bella, I don't know if I can tell you where he went."

"What? Why not?" I demanded, my brow furrowing. Esme was supposed to be on my side. And now, what, she was refusing to let me see her son? It was ridiculous. It was the stupidest thing I ever heard. And...it made sense.

I'd hurt him. I'd damaged him beyond recognition, kicking him while he was already down. And all of the while, I blamed him for it. Of _course _she was protecting him. She wouldn't be much of a mother if she wasn't.

"Because," she whispered. "He's only just getting better. I can't watch him go back to the way he was."

_He's getting better. He's over you._

"I see," I muttered, my eyes falling to the floor. "Um," I choked out, tears spilling down my cheeks without my permission. "Can I…Can I just…"

"Oh, Bella, don't cry," she soothed, pulling me back into another embrace. She smoothed my hair with her palm, rubbing her hand against my shoulder.

"Please," I blubbered, my voice muffled by the material of her wrap sweater. "I need to see him. Please." My pleas were simple. But I could feel the weight of my emotion hanging off every syllable, and I hoped that Esme could hear it too.

She searched my eyes again, the discerning look of a mother sketched all over her face. She bit her lip, which was more chapped and pale than usual, her fingers fluttering nervously at her sides.

"He's…" she began, looking at the ceiling. "He said he was going somewhere. He took off into the woods. He could be anywhere by now."

Immediately, I spun on my heel at prepared to fly down the stairs to the backyard. I knew where he was. Esme didn't, but I did. As I prepared to fly down the steps, something caught my sleeve.

"Bella," Esme said, her tone heavy. "Don't hurt him. He can't take it."

I nodded. "I swear to you, I will never hurt him again."

I ran from the porch before she could say anything more.

*

My anxiousness didn't, by any means, let up as I trekked through the dark green expanse of forest. The rain quietly tapped against the leaves of the canopy, sending chills down my spine. I'd never been in those woods without Edward. So I was surprised to experience how much scarier and how much larger the woods seemed without his comfortable presence beside me. I tried to look around me for markers, points of reference, just in case I would have to make the journey back alone. Without Edward.

I stuck my wad of gum that I'd been furiously chomping on against the rough bark of a tree bordering the worn path. I, of all people, would be the one to get lost although a winding walkway had been beaten into the soil by Edward and Emmett over the years.

My backpack was extremely heavy on my back. I felt kind of like a moron, carrying the thing everywhere. But my purse couldn't fit the wooden box inside of it, and the backpack was more ideal. I never left the house without it. Now it felt more like a burden as I walked, a reminder of how I hadn't come to find him right after Alice dumped it on my bed.

I was never really one for letting things go.

In the seventh grade, back when I still lived with Renee, I had a best friend named Maggie. We'd been friends for a while—our mothers kind of forced us together after meeting in an afternoon yoga session. Then, I was still an introvert, the same as I had been upon first coming to Forks, and it had taken a while to warm to Maggie. After a while, we became inseparable. Sleepovers, shopping trips, the horrifically cliché late-night gossip fests…the works. Best friends. That is, until I caught her tongue kissing the center of my affections, Alec, at the seventh grade dance. Needless to say, I never spoke to her again. Good thing Renee didn't like yoga anymore.

Obviously, I have issues with getting over things.

"Fuck, I am such an idiot," I whispered to myself, a branch snapping beneath my weight. It was true. Edward was everything I could have ever asked for, and I'd fucked it up because I couldn't wipe my nose and pick up a goddamn telephone.

Jesus _Christ_, had my mouth gotten dirty.

I was basking in self loathing—my mind in several places and my back groaning in protest against the pack pounding against my spine—when I realized where I was. I was twenty feet away from a rather familiar clearing in the wood.

And I was going to fucking pass out. I pinched my eyes closed.

*

**EPOV**

I hadn't been in the house in a while. Always outside, on the porch or in the ferns, but never in it. It felt weird.

I think that a part of me was still waiting for it to fall down. My nightmare, so many nights ago, was pushing itself back into my subconscious mind, permeating my thoughts as I leaned against the ancient, worn sofa. The sofa wasn't mine. This house wasn't mine. But, at the same time, it was in so many tangible ways that there was no denying that this house somehow was always meant to belong to me. So why did I feel so uneasy?

I don't know how this house became Bella's, as well. I'd always been saving it for my father. Ever since the day Em and I found it, a piece of my little boy heart had wanted us men to live there with our spectacular breeds of canine, watching baseball on a big television and doing 'man' things. There was something sickly bittersweet about that dream, like how my father had finally come with me after years and years of wishing, and how the satisfaction that I'd hoped for never came.

As Carlisle swung beside me on the dilapidated porch swing, something went unfulfilled. I'd held my breath, waiting for stars to align and puzzle pieces to fit into place, but they never did. Sure, it felt fucking awesome to know that my dad had been there, especially since there was a chance that he could die. It was the missing link between us, the one thing I'd wished for more than anything. But it still wasn't good enough.

I could hear the rain pounding against the roof as I leaned my head against the creaking sofa, breathing in the musty scent of the neglected fabric.

_This house was always meant to belong to me._

Maybe it was the truth.

I sat there in silence, listening to the crashing storm and gazing at darkened water stain on the impossibly high ceiling. There was nothing but me and the ancient structure, the sound of static and silence and water and my breathing soaking the empty air. I felt alone.

I was dealing with the inevitable death of my father. But at the end of the day, when all was said and done, I would be, without a doubt, one hundred percent alone.

Funny how Jesus does things sometimes for shitty people.

As I breathed in steadily, thinking about death and loneliness and how the polyester of the couch smelled like ass, something sounded from the other side of the thinning mahogany front door.

I sat up quickly, my eyes wide and my heart beating fast. The sudden noise caught me off guard. It wasn't loud, per say, just the quick patter of light steps up the short staircase leading up to the porch. There was no way Emmett could have made such a sound; the kid sounded like a heard of elephants just walking across a flat surface. Carlisle?

The door creaked open after a quiet moment, and I had no lungs.

"What are you doing here?" I immediately blurted. My breath was stored in my throat, a giant wisp of it slipping through my teeth.

Bella.

Fuck me, she was beautiful. She hadn't changed a bit. I think part of me expected her to change drastically in the days I hadn't seen her. It hadn't been that long. But at the same time, it had been _forever_.

She stood nervously, half of her body through the door. She had her father's tan jacket on, falling halfway down her thighs, the cumulus mane of her dark tendrils escaping from beneath her hood. A backpack was strapped to her spine, her frail wrists gripping at the straps as if she were prepared to drop it and run. I saw the deep chocolate half-moons of her eyes peeking at me from beneath thick lashes, her teeth biting on the scarlet of her bottom lip as I shook where I stood. She was the same, only better. And her _blush_…

"Should I leave?" Her words broke through my skull like a flash of hot lightening. It broke my gaze, my eyes squeezing shut and willing for her to disappear when I opened my eyes like the apparition that I was almost sure that she was. But when I lifted my lids, my mouth frozen in a scowl of surprise, she was still there, the rain blowing underneath the porch and splashing against the deep gray wooden planks lining the floor. She pulled down her hood.

"Stay," I whispered. I wasn't in control of my mouth or my brain or my vocal chords. I couldn't remember my middle name or why I was in the big, white house in the first place. I only saw her, in that fucking tan coat that was too fucking big for her, and her brown eyes that were permanently burned on the backs of my lids. Ever since the first night in her room.

She hesitated for a moment, studying me, before taking a tiny step forward and pressing the door closed behind her. It clicked shut quietly, the rush of the wind silenced infinitesimally. She leaned against the door, her arms behind her back as she watched me. Waiting for the time bomb to go off, most likely.

My mouth was dry from hanging open, but I couldn't close it. I stared at her, my mind blank, before I finally forced myself to say something. "Why are you here?"

She swallowed, her eyes frozen on my face. "Esme told me you'd be here."

I shook my head slowly, careful not to look away from her gaze. "I mean, why did you come?"

I didn't think she would start crying. I mean, technically, I wasn't really able to think at all, but I guess I just didn't expect it. But as soon as the tears began to fall from her eyelids in thick beads, it was so familiar and so expected and so _Bella_ that I almost smiled at her anguish.

"I'm so sorry," she said quietly. Her voice was not strained in the slightest way; it sounded almost as if she wasn't crying at all. "I'm sorry that I hurt you," she began, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry that I pried into your life, and then lied about it, and I'm sorry that I let you love me and then I ruined everything. I'm sorry that I fell in love with you, only because of the way that it happened.

I'm sorry that I didn't call you on Christmas, and I'm sorry that I didn't try to find you, and I'm sorry that you drove away from me the day that I wanted to make everything better. I'm so sorry for destroying you, and your family. I'm sorry for my pride. I can't make anything good for you, and I love you so much that I should be able to tell you that I'm horrible for you, and that you deserve better. But I _can't_, Edward. I can't live a single day without you anymore. I'm fucking selfish and despicable and I can't fucking believe that you still love me. I'm sorry for testing you, day-in and day-out, like your feelings for me are some kind of science experiment. I'm sorry for being so utterly and disgustingly undeserving of you. More than anything, Edward, I'm fucking sorry for staying away for so long, and I'm sorry that I pretended that it didn't kill me every day that I didn't see you. I'm sorry that I wormed my way into your life and made everything worse, and I'm sorry that Carlisle is worse now and that only because I know that, because Rosalie told me, I came here to find you. I'm sorry that it took another fucking disaster to make me realize how much I need you."

Her words were rehearsed. She had practiced them a million times in her head, and I could tell. But the way that her voice broke down, spiraling into thick, tortured sobs, let me know that she meant every word.

Two full minutes of absolute quietness.

I couldn't apologize anymore. I was spent. I'd told her how I felt, given her the only things that ever meant anything to me, and she'd ignored them. I was done.

So I did all that I could do.

I crossed the floor to her, grabbing her and squeezing her in my arms, planting my cheek firmly against the top of her head. The sound of her backpack smacking to the floor echoed off the walls as I lifted her feet off the floor, my heart pounding in my ears, relishing in the feeling of her arms squeezing me back after just a brief moment of shock. I heard her chokes as she grasped me, moving her face from my chest to my neck, the warmth of her tears dripping against my skin.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, kissing the tender flesh just below my ear lobe.

I didn't speak to her. I just held her.


	26. Brady Bunch Fashion

**I got on a kick. I wrote more, but I felt like I should end this chapter where I did. Let me know what you think.**  
**by the way, I'm gonna give you a lemons warning. It's pretty mild, nothing with whipped cream and titty tassels, but I'm just warnin' ya. 18+, bbs.**  
song: **quelqu'un m'a dit by carla bruni**

* * *

**EPOV**

Her fingers were new as I wound them with mine. It was soft in between them, little dips of milk and honey and alabaster, a small callous on her ring finger that had formed over time from the way she held a pencil. Her knuckles were slightly wrinkled and her thumb rubbed circles against mine. I was home.

"I love you," she whispered as I hovered above her. Her eyes were still shining with tears, and I hated it. I wanted her to be at the same level of acceptance as I was, to be not quite happy, but content. I leaned down to plant a kiss on her lavender eyelids.

She closed her eyes as the stubble of my chin grazed her cheek, blinking a trail of fresh tears down the side of her face. They bled into the thick mess of her hair, which was sprawled against the ancient oriental rug in front of the sofa I'd been slouched on only minutes earlier.

"I don't need to tell you that I love you, because you already fucking know it," I breathed, hot air fanning across her face. She moaned softly, her eyelashes fluttering before she met my eyes. She was pensive for a long minute, her eyebrows furrowing as she appeared to be making some decision. Her fingers were shaking as she reached down to my waist, her lip between her teeth.

"Can I?" she asked timidly, her fingers grazing beneath my jacket.

I drew in a shaky breath, collapsing beside her. "Do you really want to?"

I sounded like a goddamn pussy. Bella was hot. Not the obvious, Megan Fox kind of hot, but she was fucking glorious looking and any seventeen-year-old guy in their right mind would have thrown a bitch down right then and there. But I just couldn't.

Bella and I had had sex twice before. And everything had gone to shit. I couldn't blame the sex for our issues, but it was almost like every time we fucked, something bad happened. My worries were lame and stupid but I'm Edward motherfucking Cullen and of _course_ I think irrationally.

So this was why I was beside her on the rug, my eyebrows screwed together like a whiny bitch, rather than letting her jump on my peen like she wanted.

I wanted to do this _right _this time. But as I remembered her apology, the desperate way she sounded, I recalled the relevance that her speech had to my father's sickness.

I looked over at her face. She was staring at the ceiling, new tears trailing silently down her temple. I could sense the difference in her mood—before she had been crying out of guilt, and now she was crying because she felt rejected.

"I want to, Bella," I said quietly. "I just…I'm scared." _Edward Cullen, you have officially lost your balls._

"You don't…have…to," she choked out, her voice high-pitched and almost comical.

I rolled my eyes. "You make it sound like it's a fucking _chore_. But you just…you just came in here, and this is all new and unexpected and I don't know if you're going to bolt again, and I never thought this could happen. I don't know if you're here only because you know my dad's gonna die, or if you really love me, too, or _what_." I clamped my jaw shut, wincing at my word vomit. It was just like Bella when she'd first come to Forks.

She was quiet for a few moments, and I watched her until her face finally lifted to look at me. Her eyes were bloodshot, her eyelashes wet. She was still fucking beautiful.

"I'm _here_," she whispered. "I'm not going anywhere. I meant every fucking word that I said."

And that was it. My girl had a goddamn dirty mouth, all because of me, and she was _really_ fucking sorry.

And that's all I needed.

I watched her carefully as I slowly rolled over her again, my hands on either side of her face and the fibers of the carpet scratching against my palms. Her eyes widened a bit, her lips involuntarily parting as I leaned down to press an open-mouthed kiss on her bottom lip. She sucked my top lip in between hers, her little teeth skimming my skin as my crotch bucked into her hips against my will.

"So…yes?" she breathed, her eyelids drooping lazily over her molten irises.

"Yes," I answered, scooping her in my arms and tossing her over until she sat on top of me. She placed her palms flat against my chest, biting her lip as though she was deep in thought.

I watched her in the muted gray light of my house as she stood, removing all of her clothes and standing there, vulnerable and skin-and-bones for a long minute before kneeling at my feet.

"Give me these," she said impatiently, tugging at the legs of my pants. I hastily unbuttoned them, nearly ripping off the zipper of the fly as she tugged them down my legs. She crawled up my body, sliding my jacket from my shoulders as I sat up to meet her, kissing her softly as she worked on the buttons of my shirt.

And then it was us. Just me, just her, and the rain pounding off the roof of the place I'd known most of my life. It was one of those chick flick moments, where you just know everything is kind of fucking perfect and where you can forget everything that passed, and know it's all okay.

There were goosebumps all over her skin, almost like Braille, chills yanking down her spine. My teeth chattered, partly from anticipation and partly because it was fucking wintertime and it was fucking cold. But...oh God. Her tongue was _warm_. Her mouth was a perfect contrast to the almost freezing air of the house, fire and lava as her tongue wrestled with mine. Her nipples hardened into my chest as I held her tightly, her legs parting as the inside of her knees slid against my hips.

"I miss you," she whispered, her cheek flush against mine as I grabbed at her hips.

"But I'm right here," I insisted, my hands flat against the small of her back.

"I still miss you," she said. I chuckled lightly, the sound of my laughter a bit edgy. "And I know this is right this time," she added.

I paused, her heat against me, my hands gripping her hips in preparation. Her eyes were still closed, her nose inches from mine as I watched her. "You think so?" I asked, the change in my emotions nearly palpable. Her words strengthened my sureness, encouraging me.

"I know so," she replied, opening her eyes just enough that I could see my face reflected in her pupils. I leaned in to kiss her cheeks, her jaw line, her lips. "Now go," she said suddenly, my eyes flying open. "I'm wet as hell and I swear to God if your dick is not inside of me in two seconds, I'm taking everything back and walking the fuck home."

My dick twitched. Thank God for Bella's new dirty fucking mouth.

I smiled as I pulled her quickly away from me before delving into the melted heat of her, sliding in and out fluidly as her fingernails dug into the flesh covering my ribs. Her grip on my sides tightened as she pulled her hips forward to meet mine, a floorboard beneath us comically squeaking with each thrust.

An angel chorus chimed together in harmony as Bella whispered my name in sharp, clipped syllables. I'm ninety nine point nine percent sure I saw fireworks and shooting stars and all that other shit.

I leaned back, my head flopping against the rug again, Bella adjusting over me as she prepared to slide onto me once again. My hands found her back as I pushed her onto me, her moans louder and more frequent as the fingers of my left hand trailed down her thigh. She grabbed my hand without slowing her rhythm, shoving in between her legs before continuing to rock against me.

Sweet mother of God, Bella is a _freak_.

"Bella…I…almost…" I sputtered, my eyes pinching as my head slid against the floor. My fingers worked against her, paying her the same kindness as she was paying me, her chest heaving magnificently inches above my flesh. "Bella," I grunted loudly, my chin lifting as her back arched beneath my palm just slightly. The sound of my voice seemed to make her crash harder against me, encompassing me tightly as her breaths grew more erratic and uneven.

"Just do it," she said, her voice raspy.

In seconds, I was gone. I spilled inside of her, her name scraping off my tongue as I exhaled deeply. My body went limp as my arms left the bones of her hips, hitting the carpet with a soft _thud_. She continued to ease up and down despite my limpness and my exhaustion, getting what she needed before shuddering spasmodically.

She gasped, collapsing against my chest, our bodies slippery against one another and my arms reaching around her waist comfortably. I was still nestled inside of her contentedly, her heart beating heavily against me.

"Thank you," I said, kissing her temple. "For everything."

She rubbed her nose against my jaw, her toes pressed against my shins. "I've done nothing for you to deserve any sort of gratitude," she replied, her tone grieved.

I snorted. "Well, for one, you just gave me the best fucking lay I could have ever asked for, so I at least have _that_ to be thankful for. That's not even mentioning the other stuff."

She laughed before yawning, her hot breath fanning across my neck. "There's nothing else," she said groggily. Her hair tickled my earlobe.

I wasn't really into doing a lot of post-coital talking, never had been. That was one thing that drove me fucking apeshit about fucking Jessica Stanley--bitch talked about everything down to the shit she took that morning. But I knew that things with me and Bella were too new to be silent, so I slid my fingers into her hair and continued speaking.

"I owe you a lot," I said thoughtfully. "Given, you probably didn't handle a lot of things how you probably should have. But it's _you_, Bella. You could hit me with your car and I'd still fucking love you. I…I honestly couldn't have accomplished anything if…things hadn't worked out the way that they did."

"So you're glad I left you?" she said. Her tone had an inkling of hurt in it, but it was balanced with a trace of mere curiosity.

"Yes, and no," I answered. "Yes, because it brought me closer to my dad. It gave me no distractions. Before, when I was with you, he was trying, and he wasn't getting anywhere with me. But then everything was somehow better. It was easier for him. But then again, no, because I was miserable everyday for a long time. It was hell, Bella. I got to know my father, but every fucking day was fucking terrible."

"I'm sorry," she croaked, reaching up to lay her hand against my cheek. "I'm really, really sorry, Edward."

"It's okay," I said quietly. "It's all okay now."

Bella hummed in agreement. We were still together, listening to the rain as our bodies cooled, our temperatures dropping back down. I yanked a Chicago Bears blanket that belonged to Emmett from the couch and draped it over us, my toes sticking out of the bottom as I cursed myself for not utilizing it earlier.

This was how it was supposed to be. If I said I didn't believe in all of that 'fate' shit, I'd be a dirty rotten liar. This was so much different than my nightmare. I wasn't on the outside of the house while Bella remained inside, collapsing into dust just like the structure in which she hid from me. I was in there with her, the walls and ceiling and floor strong and intact, just like we now were. It was crippling, the irony of it, that I couldn't help but let a goofy smile drag across my lips.

A thought crept into my brain, causing me to break the silence. "How did you find out about Carlisle?" I asked suddenly.

Her thumb, which had been circling against my jaw, paused. "Rose told me," she answered after a minute.

"Rose?" I asked, incredulous. "Are you, like, _friends _now? Did I miss something?"

She chuckled, shaking her head. "Not quite. But I can see the potential. She's not so bad."

"How did this happen?"

"She called me this morning," she said slowly, a trace of pain in her voice. "She told me to come over, and that it was an emergency. I knew immediately that it had something to do with you."

"And?" I prompted.

"Of course I went. Scared the shit out of me, but I still went. She and Jasper told me what happened. She said that she hadn't seen Emmett yet, but that we all needed to help your family."

My heart thumped as a part of me remembered why I kind of love Rosalie, against my better judgment. My thoughts skipped back a few years to the whole Bryce birthday cake incident, and how she'd twisted my arm behind my back until I apologized to Alice. Abrasive, yes. But a good friend? Definitely.

"I was honestly prepared to help Alice, only. I didn't think you'd give me the time of day." She laughed dryly, her leg brushing against my crotch to almost remind herself that the exact _opposite_ had occurred.

"But as I drove here," she continued, "I knew that I needed to find you. It was like a damn epiphany. I'd been…I'd been staring at that box you gave me, wanting you but being too proud to come find you. I never stopped loving you, Edward. I just gave up."

I could have been angry at her words, hearing that she'd almost abandoned me. But I'd abandoned her, too. I gave up just as she had.

"So you meant it?" I asked.

"Meant what?"

"You really meant it when you told me you loved me? That first time?" I grimaced, remembering the night that she had known, and I was in the dark.

She was quiet, nodding ever so slightly before speaking. "I really did. I still do. I just…it's kind of like the saying 'you don't know what you have until it's gone.' You weren't _gone_, exactly, but kind of knowing that I didn't have a piece of you that I wanted made me act irrationally. I thought I was going to lose you. So what I had been feeling for you totally surfaced, and it was all I could think about. I didn't consider you at all. I'm an asshole, Edward."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, silly Bella. You aren't an asshole, I promise."

I felt her smile against my neck. "Thanks, that means a lot," she said dryly.

"Emmett needs to see Rose," I said quickly, my thoughts returning to the favor she'd done for my family. Mostly, for me. Her concern brought Bella back to me, whether she had intended it or not.

"How is he?" Bella asked, her voice laced with concern.

I snorted. "Better, now. I'm surprised her hasn't seen her yet. He's been playing video games with Dad all week. We've all come here together twice."

"Rose won't be too happy to hear that."

"Well, in his defense, he _was_ a mess. He might still be. He's connected to Carlisle at the hip. Maybe it's his way of grieving."

"Maybe," Bella agreed. "But she's worried sick. Jasper, too."

"You should talk to Alice," I suggested. "I haven't seen her in a while. She feels left out again. I have no idea how she's handling this."

"And Esme?"

"You know her. She's been perfect. She's known about it since before Christmas." I said, smiling sadly.

Bella suddenly pushed away from me, sitting on the couch as she grabbed her pants from the pile of clothes she'd left next to the old, run-down coffee table.

I frowned, looking up at her bare limbs as she wrestled the denim over her sweat-slicked body. "What are you doing?" I asked, reaching for her.

"Getting dressed," she replied.

Well, fucking _obviously_.

"Why?"

"We're going back to your house. I need to see Alice."

"Couldn't we just wait for a little while? I want to take a nap," I whined. "Plus, it's raining. And you look better without clothes on."

She smiled wickedly, raising one eyebrow. "There's more time for that," she chastised playfully. "But now, I need to make myself useful. I've been nothing more than a bump on a log for weeks now."

"Fine, fine," I said grumpily, hoisting myself from the floor with a grunt and wrapping Emmett's stupid fleece blanket around my shoulders to keep out the cold.

I was zipping up my jacket when I heard Bella's voice behind me, still on the couch. "Does Emmett bring Rose here?" she asked.

"She doesn't even know about this place," I answered, looking at her over my shoulder. "Why?"

She smiled widely, her eyes twinkling. "Because I have a new rule."

"Yeah? And what is that?"

"You can only fuck me in this house," she said plainly, causing my breath to catch in my throat and my fucking crotch to throb wildly. Bitch was crazy.

"Is there, um, a particular reason for this new rule?" My throat was dry. She had to stop this if she wanted to get back to talk to Alice. At this rate, she would never leave the fucking oriental rug.

"'_Because...fuck, Bella…that house is our house,_'" she quoted perfectly, her suggestive smile fading into a sad grimace. I immediately recalled the night that I wrote that letter to Bella, taping it to the bottom of the box for her to find one day, even if it wasn't immediately. "Your bed has bad memories," she added.

I crossed the room quickly, picking her up in my arms and burying her face in my hair. _Fucking strawberries_.

"Whatever you want," I promised. "Whenever."

"I want to live here with you," she said quietly, causing my spine to straighten and my eyes to pop open. "I never want to be away from you again."

I released her, keeping only her shoulders in my hands as I looked at her square in the face. "Things are going to get bad around here," I said quickly. "We might want to take things as they come…"

"I am one hundred percent sure about you," she said sternly, her gaze unwavering. "I will never leave you again unless you ask me to."

"I'd never do that."

"Then that's that. This house is ours."

"Whatever you want," I repeated, taking her hand in mine before we set off into the wind and rain to go find Alice.

*

**BPOV**

"You can only fuck me in this house," I said simply. I waited for my blush to creep up my neck and onto my cheeks, but it didn't come. _Weird_.

Edward's face drained of color as his eyes widened impossibly, the crotch of his pants bulging slightly as I tried to stay focused. _Alice. Alice. Alice._

"Is there, um, a particular reason for this new rule?" he stammered, his tone gritty and his eyes darkening substantially into two dark green pools of heat.

I tried to search my brain for a proper, witty explanation as to why I only wanted Edward on the floor of this dirty, old house, but I could find nothing. All that I could think of was the letter that sat inside of the box that was stored carefully in my backpack by the front door, Edward's calligraphy scratched across the solid lines of blue as he swore his undying love for me.

"'_Because...fuck, Bella…that house is our house,_'" I quoted perfectly, trying to fight off the embarrassment that I felt for having memorized the entire thing. Edward's eyes fell, my lips turning into a deep frown. "Your bed has bad memories," I added, wincing.

I'd been living inside of my own head for so long now that I couldn't help but imagine Edward and I, ten years from now, sitting on the porch swing of the white house, the stairs inside fixed and sturdy so that he could explore the top stories like he'd always wanted to. The chandeliers would be dusted, the same furniture cleaned and reupholstered so that it could be almost the same as it always was. And we would make love on that same, paisley-printed rug, our bed waiting upstairs for us for whenever I got carpet burn on my back and we needed somewhere else to go. Edward would have a dog, like he'd always dreamed of, and he and I would lay together in the ferns underneath the sun as the white house sat before us, tall and beautiful and old and new, just as it always was, only better.

I felt Edward's arms wrap around me, memories of the last half hour spilling into my brain as my heart began pounding once more. It was odd to think that just an hour ago, I'd been stumbling through the woods looking for him, my heart shattered into eighteen billion pieces in the fear that he would never love me again.

Edward took a deep breath as he buried his nose in my hair. "Whatever you want," he whispered. "Whenever."

"I want to live here with you," I said suddenly. I felt his spine go rigid beneath my hands, every muscle in his tall frame stiffening. "I never want to be away from you again."

Slowly, he pulled away from me, in spite of my previous statement, gripping my shoulders lightly as he stared at me with unmasked intensity. "Things are going to get bad around here," he said, his voice heavy with conviction. "We might want to take things as they come…"

My heart broke a little. Was he questioning us? We had torn our house down, rebuilding a more sturdy foundation only an hour before that, and he was already willing to tear it all down?

"I am one hundred percent sure about you," I said harshly, "I will never leave you again unless you ask me to." My stomach heaved at the thought of staying away from him again, the memory of his car speeding away from me pushing itself into my mind.

"I'd never do that," he said earnestly, his hands dropping to his side.

"Then that's that," I said before I could start crying again. "This house is ours."

His eyes churned with some deep emotion, his jaw tensing as his temples pulsed. "Whatever you want," he said slowly, the same emotion in his facial expression leaking into his voice. It made my knees shake. He took his hand in mine, pulling me towards the front door of the house that would one day belong to us.

*

Alice wasn't hard to find.

Edward murmured about being surprised that her skin wasn't fused to her bedspread from the amount of time she'd spent in there, alone. It broke my heart a little.

"Alice?" I called softly, my knuckles thumping against the door and my other hand grasping Edward's. "It's Bella. Can I come in?"

I heard rustling, the sound of a drawer being shut, and a soft clearing of a throat. "Of course," her voice chimed. "It's unlocked."

I looked over my shoulder at Edward. He nodded slightly, reaching forward to open the door himself.

Alice was sitting in the center of her bed, her knees pulled to her chest and her black hair sticking up in several directions. Her piercing green eyes were slightly red, sitting vacantly above her freckled, tiny slope of a nose. Her full lips were chapped and pale. She looked like hell.

I expected her to cry when she saw me. I expected her to sob because her father was sick and I knew that she loved me so she'd be pleased to have someone to console her. Alice was never one to skip on the dramatics; not that she didn't have a perfectly good reason this time to cry into my shoulder.

But what I _didn't _expect was the reason for her tears. She immediately shot up from the bed, yanking slightly on the legs of her light blue pajama shorts as she ran across the room, leaping into my arms. "Bella!" she yelped, wrapping her little legs around my waist. I stumbled backward, Edward holding me stable.

Alice released me, hugging her brother and planting a kiss on his cheek, thick tears leaking from her eyes. Edward took my reaching hand, his eyes just as wide as mine were.

Alice looked down at our entwined fingers, crying even heavier now. "I…you…both...when…_together_!" she sputtered, jumping up and down as she continued to weep. And she was crying tears of…joy.

I heard Edward's musical laughter from behind me, a smile creeping onto my face when I heard the sound of it.

"Everything's better now, Al," he said softly, laughing again.

Alice squealed, wrapping her arms around my neck once more. "Thank the Lord Jesus Christ," she yelped. "Now I don't have to feel guilty anymore."

"Feel guilty?" I asked, confused. "For what?"

Alice rolled her eyes, wiping her cheeks with her manicured fingers. "Edward had always thrown me headlong into this whole thing the two of you have going on," she explained, smiling widely as she caught a glimpse of Edward and I holding hands. "I felt responsible for…you know, telling you about the whole thing with our dad. And then he gave me the package to deliver on Christmas Day, and I thought it was my fault that you didn't call him right after, so…"

I laughed, a hard, solid bark. "It's finished with," I said lightly, laughing again. "Water under the bridge, and all that."

It felt so good to laugh. I hadn't really laughed in a long time. I had almost become accustomed to the light, but somehow still harsh arpeggio that I'd trained myself into uttering at polite times—when someone told a joke, complimented me, was intentionally funny. But here was _my_ laugh, back from the dead. Everything was so much better now, within a span of eighty minutes.

But then again, it was worse.

I was here for a reason.

I grabbed Alice's elbow, steering her to the end of her bed and slipping my hand from Edward's.

"Alice," I began seriously, "are you okay?"

She giggled outrageously, still crying. "I'm perfect. You and Edward are together again. I can see you more often. Everything is awesome, Bella."

I forced a smile, and she sensed that my mood was not a reflection of hers. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly, her smile fading.

"I know what's happened with Carlisle."

"Oh."

The silence in the room was tangible, only interrupted by the sound of Edward's socked feet pacing the floor to the small armchair by the closet.

"Did you tell her?" Alice asked. She looked only at her lap, but we all knew she was asking Edward.

"Rosalie," he said simply, picking at his cuticles. He was obviously uncomfortable. I nearly told him he could leave the room, but I needed him there with me, in case Alice broke down.

Alice nodded thoughtfully, her thin, black brown pulling together.

"He's going to die," she croaked, her cheeks paling.

"No he's not," Edward spat automatically. It sounded like it was something practiced, an automatic defense mechanism.

"Yes he is," Alice insisted, looking at him with a sneer. "No use sugar-coating it."

More silence.

"It'll all be fine, Al," I soothed, placing my hand over hers. "I can't really help you, other than just by being here. I'm sorry I haven't been here for you like I should've."

She sniffled, looking up at me. "You've been fine, Bella. I've seen you at school. Even when you and Edward were…_you know_…you were still my friend."

I shook my head, refusing to let her be the martyr. "I never asked you about Carlisle. I never bothered to care, because I was so wrapped up in what was happening with Edward. Rosalie called me over today to tell me what's going on and to let me know that we need to help you guys."

Alice smiled weakly. "That was nice of her."

"Yeah. It really was," I agreed, grinning slightly. "But we're all here now. We haven't been in the past, but we are now."

"Better late than never," she said playfully, slipping her hand from beneath mine and tucking her hair behind her ear. "You know, this was what I've been wanting since the beginning."

I raised my eyebrows. "What? Are you talking about your father? You couldn't possibly…"

"No!" she said quickly. "Of course that's not what I meant. I mean…we're all, like, together now. Jesus, that sounds sappy. But I'm having a fucking Brady Bunch moment so fuck off."

Edward laughed behind me, sifting through one of Alice's fashion magazines and drawing mustaches on the models.

"When Rose hooked up with Em at the beginning of all of this, I was pissed," she continued. "Beyond pissed. We didn't talk for forever. Well, you _know _all of this. Rose didn't like me with Jasper, blah, blah, blah. _I_ didn't even like _you_ that much at first, honestly. Now, don't look at me like that. Let me finish. I thought you were weird, but I hung out with you because Rose pretty much left me at the curb for my own brother. But then, you and Edward started, uh, whatever you guys were, and I was…I dunno, happy? Yeah. I was happy. I was happy because _he_ was happy, and I actually found out that I kind of really fucking love you."

"Thanks, Al," I said, blushing. I reached up to ruffle her hair.

Alice sighed contentedly. "It just seems incredibly perfect that now all six of us have found common ground, and we're working together. It's…it's a _relief_."

"A relief," I echoed. "Yeah, it really is."

"And I'm not trying to say that I'm glad my father is sick and dying. I'm devastated. Hell, I haven't deep-conditioned my hair in a week. But it brought us all together. It's like some fucking fairy tale but a really sick, depressing version. And I feel like a weight is off of me. I can't tell you how _relieved _I am to see you with Edward again."

I smiled over at him, trying to catch his eye. He looked up at me through his lashes, grinning lazily before going back to his doodling.

"So you're going to be okay?" I asked, my eyes flickering back to Alice's.

Alice bit her lip, thinking for a moment. "Yes," she said decidedly, bobbing her head. "I think so. It'll take a long time, but eventually, I think so."

"That's all I can ask for," I replied. And then, in a typical Brady Bunch fashion, we hugged that shit out.

*


	27. Proud

**This is the final chapter of relief before an epilogue. I felt suddenly inspired to finally, FINALLY finish this, and I really really really really hope that you all haven't given up on the story. I tried really hard to end this appropriately, and I think I'll go back and revise everything else to fix the things I'm not completely happy with. I skipped around with POVs to give a taste of everything that Relief has been about: Alice, Edward, Bella. Thank you to everyone who has stuck through with this and put up with all of my bullshit. I hope that this final chapter ends the right way. I think it does (:**

**Keep your eye out for an epilogue coming soon. Please review! I love you guys.  
**song: to build a home by the cinematic orchestra

* * *

**EPOV**

Radiation.

Radiation stops cancer cells from multiplying and spreading and growing.

Radiation is used for lymphoma in an early stage, when it's still in an area small enough to be treated affectively and pointedly.

Often, radiation is used along with chemotherapy.

Carlisle was stage three. It was too late. But they were still trying.

They were treating him under his arms, in his neck, and in his chest. His skin grew paler and his head was now so shiny that I almost forgot the mane of blonde hair that used to grow on top of it.

But it was kind of weird now-no one was sad, no one cried, and Carlisle seemed...better. It was pretty much amazing. I couldn't piece together the reasons why everyone was better, and whenever the thought that maybe it was Bella making me happy again that helped the overall mood crept into my head, I jammed it into the back of my brain so I wouldn't let myself feel guilty. I know it might have sounded selfish, but I was just so fucking tired of blaming myself and everyone else that, for once, I just wanted there to be no blame at all. Everything was how it was, and nothing was going to change that.

"You okay?" Bella asked softly, breaking me away from my thoughts.

She rolled over to look at me as I lay on my back, the sheet gathered under her armpits and her hands pressing it against her chest.

I stared at the ceiling, nodding my head against the pillow. "Yeah," I answered. "I really think I am."

I heard her laugh quietly before she pressed her cheek to my chest. "You don't know how happy it makes me to hear you say that."

My hand wound itself into her wild hair. "I just feel better," I said, surprising myself at how true my words were. "I feel like everything is how it's supposed to be."

"What do you mean? Like, with us?" she asked, lifting her head to meet my eyes.

"Well, yeah. Having you here like this was something I thought would never happen again." That was true, and I was a pretty lucky bastard.

"But..." she prompted.

"But everything with my dad, uh, it's good," I replied, pinching my eyes closed. "I understand that this had to happen. Him being sick...it was meant to happen like this. I just have to let it."

She pressed her lips to my collarbone, turning to press against me.

"I am so proud of you," she whispered, her lips moving against my skin. "And I love you."

"And I love you," I whispered back. That was true, too.

Sometime into the evening, Bella and I had decided to go out for dinner for the first time in a long time. It was still so weird for us-we had been together for what seemed like forever, even before everything, but we'd hardly even been on a normal date like a normal couple. It had been a little over three weeks since our reunion, and everything was right again.

I liked to watch her as she put her makeup on in my mirror, pulling a brush through her tangled mess of hair that I had helped complicate. She met my eyes in the mirror every so often, and it was all I could do not to wrap my arms around her waist and pull her back into bed. The best part was that if I really wanted to, I could now. I smiled to myself.

"What are you so happy about?" she asked playfully, slicking some cherry-flavored chapstick on her mouth.

"You," I answered, and I knew it was fucking cheesy. But I just didn't give a shit.

She walked slowly towards where I was perched on the bed, her hips fucking screaming at me in the jeans she was wearing. I sighed as she wrapped her arms around my neck, my hands instinctively winding around her as she leaned into me.

"Ready to go?" she murmured.

"Not yet." I grinned, palming her lower back and pushing her between my legs. Everything was going great for me until I heard a soft knock on the door.

Immediately, Bella pushed away from me like a child caught eating dessert before dinner and adjusted her sweater from where I'd pushed it up.

"Come in!" I called, ignoring the huskiness of my voice and the fact that my dick was pretty much throbbing. Cock block.

Emmett pushed his way into the room, a crooked grin on his wide face. "Am I interrupting something?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows like the dumbfuck that he was.

"Get out," I ordered, pointing toward the door. "Seriously, Em, not the best time." No use being subtle.

Bella was looking awkward as hell, yanking on the hem of her little red sweater like it was a lifeline.

Emmett guffawed. "Relax, baby brother. Dad wants to talk to you for a little while, so I'd suggest that you postpone your dinner plans for the time being. He says it's important."

I sighed. Great. There was no way that I wasn't going to go to my father, and Bella and I both knew that. She looked disappointed, but I knew from a glimmer in her eye that she understood.

"I'm sorry, B," I said, crossing the room to her. I leaned into her to kiss her cheek, and her skin was so warm that I had to fight to try and forget what Emmett had interrupted. "You can just hang tight and I'll be back up when we're finished."

She shook her head vehemently. "No, Edward, I'll go home, and you can come over when you're ready. I'm not going to just sit up here so you feel rushed. Take your time."

God, she was the best.

"Okay," I agreed, leaning in to kiss her lips one more time before she gave a little wave and walked out the door. I followed soon after her, padding down the stairs and into the office without a door.

Carlisle sat at his desk, facing me. He smiled when I entered the room, lifting himself carefully out of his giant desk chair and walking slowly to one of two armchairs across from the fireplace and gesturing towards the other, indicating that I was to sit there.

I followed him, plopping into the big leather chair as I waited for him to speak. The fire crackled.

I looked up from my lap to see my dad watching me, his eyes content and his lips curled up into a grin. "Son," he acknowledged, still smiling.

I laughed at his expression. "What?"

"I figured that this had to happen some time, and the moment feels right," he said, a hint of finality in his tone. It worried me before I reminded myself to relax.

"I hadn't realized Bella was here until I saw her leave," he continued. "I'm sorry to mess up your plans. I would have come up to your room to talk to you like I normally would, but my knees hurt today." He winced. I could tell he felt weak, and he didn't like that.

I waved my hand dismissively. "It's no big deal," I said. My voice sounded very small, like I sounded when I was eight.

Carlisle cleared his throat, sweeping a hand over his clean head. "Okay, um, I'm not sure where to start this."

"I'm here all night," I replied, my chest tightening. I knew what was happening.

"I...I am so _proud_ of you, Edward," he said after a few quiet moments, hesitating before speaking. "I am so proud of everything you do, everything you've said, how you're handling all of this. I'm so much more comfortable now than before."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that...I mean that I am more at ease with leaving you. I'm more at ease with leaving everyone."

I furrowed my brow, confused.

"What I mean to say is, I feel safer. I feel like you and Emmett have grown and matured into _men_, Edward, and the two of you aren't just boys anymore. I know you can look after your mother and your sister and take care of our family. I _trust_ you." He studied me carefully to make sure that he hadn't said anything wrong. When I was silent, he continued.

"This doesn't mean that I want to leave. I didn't choose this. But when do we choose anything in life? We can't always choose love, and we can't choose family or destiny, so life just gives these things to us. And we have to take it. Do you understand that?"

I nodded heavily. "I do," I answered. And I meant it.

Carlisle chuckled darkly. "We've come a long way, my son," he said, still laughing in clipped, labored sounds. "From you destroying my study door to you sitting here with me now, it really is remarkable the journey we've had together. And I want you to know that you impress me with your strength everyday. It makes us all strong. It makes _me_ strong."

"I'm not really that tough, dad, you don't have to be nice," I said, my cheeks getting hot.

"I'm not flattering you. I mean what I'm saying. I mean it when I tell you how proud I am of you and I mean it when I say that I know you'll be just fine when I'm gone."

"So that's it then?" I asked. "Is it...are you really...is it ending?"

He knew what I meant. He ducked his head in a nod, his blue eyes flickering closed. I fisted handfuls of denim in my palms as I fought to keep my face composed.

None of this was anyone's fault.

"They did all that they could," he said. "It's still a bit crazy for me to think about. I guess that with my being a doctor, I foolishly never thought that something like this could happen to me. But it did, and it is my destiny, and there's nothing I can do to go back and change anything. So it's finished. I have maybe a month, maybe two. But that's pushing it." He was quiet, contemplating something. "I think I'm ready," he added in an almost whisper.

"You're not scared?" I asked, my voice breaking.

"No," he answered. "No, I don't think I am. I've been preparing for this for a while now. And I'm not scared anymore."

That was all I could ask for.

"But son, I need you to know that it's all up to you now," Carlisle went on. "I look at where we were a few months ago and how you were, and how you are now, and I feel so certain and so sure of you and what you're capable of that I know you're in charge of yourself more than you ever have been. But I need to know that you're going to be okay."

Shit. My face felt wet. "I'll be fine, dad, I promise." I wiped my cheeks with the backs of my hands quickly as I waited for him to keep going.

He watched me for a moment with his milky eyes, the fire lighting up one side of his face as he looked at me with an expression that was so crazy and terrifying and caring at the same time that it scared me.

"You need to keep the things that make you feel right, Edward," he said soberly, leaning toward me to show that he was serious. "You need to take the things that make the world the best possible place for you and you need to hold onto them. I think you and I both know what the number one thing is."

"Bella," I said. It wasn't really a time for me to play any guessing games with him, and I knew that what he was saying was important.

"Yes," he agreed. "I saw how you were without her. You were dealing with all of this, but not fully. Not properly. But she came back to you. She came back like I told you she would. And now look at you." He gestured toward me, smiling weakly. "You're ready for anything now. You're strong."

"Stop saying that," I said, laughing quietly and trying not to cry like a fucking girl. Carlisle didn't want that, and I didn't want to show him that weakness while he was telling me how strong I was.

"Well, it's true," he insisted.

I took a deep breath, my stomach flipping as I fought the irrational fear of impending doom.

"Something else," Carlisle added. "I'm, ah, I'm leaving you some inheritance of course."

"I don't care about any of that shit," I said quickly, my voice hard and slicing. I didn't care about Carlisle's money, or anything that I had to gain, and I was almost offended that he even said anything about it.

"Relax, relax," he said calmly, his palms out to me. "I'm only telling you this for a very good reason. Something that is very important to me."

"Which is?"

"The house," he said, cocking an eyebrow when I didn't immediately understand.

"I thought the house was paid off," I said, confused.

"No, no, not this house!" he laughed, a bit exasperated. "The white house. The one in the woods. I want you to have the money to do whatever it takes to make it yours."

I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me. "You...you what?"

He pressed his fingers together, grinning. "It's always been yours. Even though it's also Emmett's, he's agreed that it's more yours than anyone's."

"I can't accept this," I choked, my eyes wide and my heart pounding.

"I think you can," Carlisle protested, a smile in his tone. "Maybe when you're there, you'll think of me."

I dropped my face into my hands, trying to gather some composure. My father was dying, and he was leaving me his legacy. That was enough. But a home..._my _home...a home that had always somehow been mine even without proper ownership. It was amazing. It was perfect. I had to fight against the shallow breaths that were raking through my throat.

"Now I want you to make me some promises," Carlisle said evenly, trying to reign me back in and to act seriously even though I still heard the happiness in his voice.

"Anything." I meant that.

Carlisle cleared his throat, closing his eyes again. "Esme," he began. And I saw a tear escape, but I ignored it, because I knew he didn't want any crying, either. I waited for him to pull himself together.

"I want you to take care of her," he said. His eyes opened. They were bloodshot, and he couldn't keep it back. I carefully kept a poker face for him, nodding soberly.

"She's strong, like you. But I'd like to think that she needs me as much as I need her, and I need to know that she'll be alright. So watch out for her. Don't leave her out her alone too much. When you leave for college, come visit her. Come back for holidays. Give her some good grandkids. Remember her favorite color and remember her birthday."

"I promise," I agreed, my voice rasping out as I tightened my grip on the armchair.

"Now Alice," he said, chuckling softly. "She's your twin sister. She's loopy and spacey and completely in her own world. But you need to love on her, you understand? You might want to smack her, but you have to love her. I didn't love her the right way for so long, and now that she finally got my full and undivided attention, it's one of the hardest things I have to do to take that away from her. So watch her, okay? Don't let her down."

I nodded again, and we both laughed as we thought of teeny, tiny Alice and her enormous temper.

"Emmett can take good care of himself," Carlisle said nodding. "He'll be fine, just like you. Just make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. Make sure he stays in line and finishes school and makes a good husband. I think I like that Rosalie girl. Is she good for him?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I think she's really good for him."

Carlisle liked that. He was almost beaming, his eyes red-rimmed. "I'm so amazed," he said thoughtfully.

"About what?"

He chuckled with more effort and happiness in his voice now. "You are all going to be perfect!" he exclaimed, laughing again. "You have everything, don't you understand? You don't need me anymore."

"We need you always, dad," I insisted. "We'll be alright, but don't think for a second that you're not needed."

He smile leveled out, and his face became serious again. "I appreciate that, Edward."

We looked at each other for a while, the fire flickering and the large clock downstairs chiming.

"I love you, son," Carlisle said slowly. "And I'll miss you."

"I love you too, dad," I said, my voice breaking.

And we both got up from our chairs, and we hugged one another, and I went up to my room and cried into my pillow like the bitch I tried not to be until I felt two warm hands circle around me. I smelled strawberries, and I knew it was her.

**APOV**

The summer came quickly, and it was time to move all of my winter clothes to the guest room closet and bring all of my summer clothes out of storage. It was a toiling task, and thank God Bella was over to help with everything. She had said that it was part of my birthday gift since I'd been putting cleaning off for a while, I was taking her up on her offer.

Jasper sat on my bed like a bump on a log drawing mustaches over all of the models' mouths in a copy of _Vogue_. I threw him a lot of desperate and exhausted looks hoping he'd get the hint and help haul the boxes of shoes and bins of jackets up the stairs for me, but the kid was semi-retarded and thought nothing of it. I thought about making a big deal out of it, but he looked content, and the boxes weren't really _that_ heavy. Maybe I just wanted his attention.

Actually, I _knew_ I just wanted his attention.

"Are we finished yet?" Bella whined, wiping a hand dramatically across her forehead to wipe the sweat that she and I both knew wasn't there.

I inspected the closet, admiring the rows of sandals and shorts with satisfaction before nodding. "You're free," I decided, throwing my arms around her. "Thanks for your help, I couldn't have done it without you."

"Sure, you could've," she laughed, returning the hug. "If only your boyfriend wasn't such a waste of space and actually did something thing every once in a while."

"Tell me about it," I sighed, turning to look at Jasper. He was so engrossed in his mustache-drawing abilities that he didn't even register the fact that we were talking about him. It was so pathetic and made me so irritated that it was almost funny. Almost.

I heard Edward before I saw him.

The boy walked so heavily that he sounded like heard of elephants rather than a skinny eighteen-year-old boy. He leaned against my doorframe, smirking as he surveyed our afternoon's work.

"Looks good," he decided, wrapping an arm around Bella and planting a kiss to her temple. She giggled, swatting him, which of course prompted more squealing and kissing and touching to the point that I was literally rolling my eyes.

"Feel free to find a room," I scoffed, smiling in spite of myself as I adjusted some picture frames on my desk.

Edward mocked me for a while as Bella laughed, much to his pleasure. "Calm down, Al, it's my birthday," he said, prompting more eye-rolling on my behalf.

"It was your birthday _last week_, Edward. And just in case your forgot, it was my birthday too."

"Then you should know just as well as any that whenever I had a birthday, it lasts all month," he said matter-of-factly, flashing his teeth in a cocky grin.

Bella giggled again for no apparent reason as Edward said something else that I'm sure was witty and charming before the two of them wandered off into the hallway being noisy and stupid. I sighed as I crawled up the bed and took the magazine out of Jasper's hands, tossing it across the room and nuzzling into his neck.

"Hey!" he complained, "I was reading that!"

"Yeah, yeah," I droned disinterestedly. "I can think of ten things we can do that would be more interesting."

He cocked at eyebrow at me, grinning like a fool. "You mean it?"

I laughed, my insides warming. Jasper was ridiculous, but he sure was cute.

Just when we were about to start fooling around, the door to my bedroom swung open. Fucking typical. Emmett and Rosalie were on the other side, and I rolled off of Jasper like he was a hot plate. Rosalie scowled. Emmett laughed.

"You could at least knock," I spat, raking my fingers through my hair.

"You could at least shut your door all the way," Emmett shot back, laughing all over again.

"I'm going to pretend that I didn't just see that," Rosalie added, making a face.

Jasper just lay against the pillow, his ankles crossed and a lazy smile on his face.

"Are you going to tell me what you want or are you just going to stand there?" I asked, irritation clear in my voice.

Emmett laughed again, a loud, booming bellow. "You kids ought to get decent. Dad wants us all to go to the house with the contractors to supervise the plans and stuff."

"Dad really shouldn't be leaving the house," I said with a furrowed brow.

"We all have to go?" Jasper whined.

I swatted him, and he grinned like an idiot.

Carlisle was at his all-time worst now, and we were all trying to enjoy our time with him and not count down the days. He had insisted that we all go about life normally, and although it was difficult, we all wanted to make him happy. And although I knew that looking over the plans for the house that he'd basically willed to Edward was one of his lasting wishes, I also knew that it was a really bad idea.

"Would you calm down, Alice?" Emmett said, suddenly serious. "Just get your ass downstairs so we can all leave. Now's not the time for you to get all knowledgeable and act like you know what's best for dad. This is what he wants. So stop complaining and come on."

With every fiber of my being, I wanted to protest, but I knew he was right.

Jasper and I were in the car and ready to go in three minutes.

At the end of May, after Emmett graduated, Dad had the path from the main house to the white house cleared and set with gravel. It had been a gift to Emmett and Edward both, for both graduation and our birthday, and it had meant a lot more to Edward than an empty card.

I drove Esme's car with the lot of us jammed into the seats with Emmett in the trunk, driving beneath the shade of the leaves and the rare bit of sunshine peaking down on us through a green film. Carlisle rode passenger beside me, and I swear he smiled the entire drive. I found the clearing easily on the new road, revealing the old ramshackle house that I had seen for the very first time only a couple of weeks ago. I still couldn't understand what the big deal was, but the way Edward's eyes widened and Emmett's grin stretched impossibly was indicative of how much the structure meant to the both of them.

Esme was on the porch with one of the guys from the contracting company, Edward and Bella wandering and dropping off into their own little world on the end opposite from Esme swinging on the porch swing that looked ready to break. I chuckled at the mental image that that thought had inspired as I jumped out of the car.

"No one's lived in the house for quite some time, obviously," I overheard one of the workers saying to Esme as I sauntered up the steps. "No one even knew this place was out here anyway. It's the craziest thing any of us has ever heard of. And technically, the house in on your land. So what I'm trying to say is that the house belongs to you, Mrs. Cullen."

Esme touched her hand to her chest and gasped before breaking out into a huge smile.

"It's ours, Carlisle!" she called to my father, skipping down the steps and wrapping her arms around him. He smiled and kissed her lips, and my stomach twisted.

Jasper slid his arm around my shoulder, watching my parents as well. "It's all working out, Al," he said quietly, ruffling my hair.

"I know," I said, smiling. It was.

The day was long, and Carlisle got tired really quickly.

He sat on the porch swing beside Edward, and the two were talking so softly and looking at each other with such great understanding that we all left them alone on the porch and started cleaning up old, rickety furniture inside the house so the contractors could start work the next day. An architect had drawn plans for a new stairway and to completely refurbish a majority of the second and third stories whose floors were unsafe to have more than fifty or sixty pounds on at a time. Emmett packed away some of his things in the house so quietly and with such reverence that none of us bothered to disturb him. By the time everything was cleared out, Esme had managed to save some of the old chandeliers and found some silver that the old tenants had apparently left behind. We walked out of the front door with a million full trash bags to leave against the railing to get the next day, and Carlisle was clapping Edward on the back with a broad smile.

"It's all yours now," he said with pride, his voice breathy and unstable.

"All thanks to you," Edward replied, rubbing his hands together with contentment.

"Let's go home," Emmett said, allowing Carlisle to slip his arm around Emmett's ribs to steady himself as he climbed down the steps.

I looked up at the house behind me as we left, my hand in Jasper's. Edward had said he'd had a lot of history here. It was the place he'd come to when everything else was pretty fucked up. It was where he'd always wanted to live, and where he'd brought our father when we learned that he was sick. Maybe I did understand why this place was so important. And maybe I was jealous that I'd never had a place like this.

But maybe I never needed one. Maybe it was just Edward, maybe it was just Emmett. Maybe they needed that house because they'd needed a father that they didn't have.

But we had Carlisle now. We had him, and we needed him, but we had to let him go.

And we also had to be okay with that.

Carlisle passed away in our home sometime between three and four o'clock that morning.

I was asleep, and he had been too. I heard Esme crying around four thirty and rushed down the stairs to her.

Edward was already there. Emmett was right behind me.

Jasper had been sleeping in Emmett's room, and Rosalie in mine, but they hung back. I think they were scared.

Esme said she had sensed something different. She couldn't explain it later on to us when she was calmer and less hysterical, and I will never ask her to try and explain it ever again.

All that she said was that she felt something different in the room, something different enough to wake her in the middle of the night to place her hand on her husband's chest and to realize that there was nothing beneath her palm. No pulse, no beat, no nothing.

I can't remember if I cried or not.

We already knew it was over even before they came to move him. Jasper did nothing less than sob when he spoke with the funeral home as they straightened my father's body out before his joints could stiffen, explaining the circumstances and answering any other questions they had. It was horrifying, watching strangers handle Carlisle like that. I was even more horrified when I realized that Jasper was speaking to them so none of us had to.

I felt him grab my hand as he spoke to Dr. Gerandy on the phone, notifying him of what had happened so we could get a death certificate. The doctor arrived to the house twenty minutes later, walking through the open door and embracing my mother as they both cried.

Carlisle had been his friend.

Everyone knew my dad wasn't exactly on the mend. For some reason, I half-expected an ambulance to come and whisk him away to the hospital for them to try and revive him, or something dramatic like that. But we already knew it was over, everyone did. It was just too much to watch everything happen and not being able to stop it. I couldn't stop anyone from taking his body. I couldn't have stopped him from dying in the first place.

It was like standing on a railroad track when a train was coming and not being able to move.

I think I blinked maybe twice for an entire two hours. Somehow I wound up on Rosalie's couch, Rose on one side of me and Jasper on the other, their arms around me as they stayed awake and I slept.

My brothers stayed with my mother. I didn't want to think about them. How could they go back to that house? How could they ever go back?

I woke up soon after I drifted off with two of the most important people in my life beside me, but I felt completely alone.

It was going to be like that everyday for a long time.

**BPOV**

I didn't look at the speedometer once as I drove to him.

He was alone, on his front steps, just sitting there.

His mother was gone, and Emmett had gone with her. She had gone with Dr. Gerandy to declare the cause, time, and place of her husband's death so it could be properly pronounced. Rose and Jasper were with Alice, he said. But he was alone.

I asked why he hadn't gone with them.

"Because I knew you'd come here," he answered, his small voice cracking.

"You didn't need to wait for me," I said, feeling guilty and also wanting to scold him at the same time.

He shrugged, sniffling and wiping under his nose with the back of his hand as water leaked over the brim of his eyelid. "It was already done, Bella. There's nothing that I can do about it anymore. So I waited for you. I waited because you're here, and he's not anymore. There's nothing I can do about it."

His voice didn't waver, which surprised me. When I cry, I sound horrendous. He sounded normal. He sounded sad, but he sounded okay.

I grabbed his hand in mine, kissing his knuckles and letting a few of my own tears fall. Carlisle had been important to all of us. He played a large part in bringing Edward and I together, and he played a large part in bringing us back to one another when we'd parted. He was the glue that held this family together, that held Edward and I together, that held _me_ together. Everything that had once separated me from the person beside me seemed even more foolish now than before. It felt insignificant, and pathetic, and it made me grasp his hand tighter as we waited for the sun to rise and for everyone to come back to the place where everything had happened only a few hours ago.

Charlie came to the Cullen house as soon as he got off work. Thankfully, he'd stopped by the Thriftway on the way over and came prepared with lots of food and some much-needed cooking spray. Alice had fallen asleep in Carlisle's old bed with Esme, and I'd been in the kitchen all morning doing whatever I could to forget about everything and to maybe help ease their pain. It was definitely the best that we'd all been there so none of them were alone. Maybe the presence of four people outside of the family helped alleviate the realization that their own family was one member short.

Emmett was on the back porch with Rosalie. He was asleep as well. His head was in Rosalie's lap as she twirled his hair around his fingers. I could see the tears drying on her face from where I stood in the kitchen.

The sun was out today. I smiled to myself.

Charlie worked around me, mixing mashed potatoes with a wooden spoon instead of a mixer so the stillness of the house wouldn't be disturbed.

Edward's rust-colored hair was sticking up over the back of the leather chair he was curled up against in the den. I hoped he was sleeping, too. Jasper was snoring quietly from the couch across from him. I was growing more and more impressed with Jasper by the minute. I bit my lip to keep from crying all over again.

As I stirred a chocolate cake mix, staring at the swirls of batter that the spoon made as I whipped it around and around, I reached within myself and found that my chest felt oddly lighter. It was like a weight had been removed from my shoulders, and I couldn't explain it.

I would never know how Edward felt. I could try to understand, and I could listen, but I could never fully know exactly how he was feeling right now. I knew he'd be sad in the nighttime when Carlisle wasn't there on his black leather couch to talk to, and I knew he'd be sad cleaning out all of Carlisle's old things from the study desk that he knew so well. Maybe Edward wouldn't ever touch it. Maybe Carlisle's drawers would always remain full of his things and his pens and files would be left exactly how they were long after his parting. Part of me hoped that this would happen. But it wasn't up to me.

Regardless, I still felt unsatisfied with myself. I felt like I wasn't helping Edward enough being here, because I couldn't ever fully understand. Almost like he was reading my mind, Charlie spoke to me.

"You're doing a great job, Bells," he said gruffly, avoiding my eyes. He wasn't good at expressing emotion, and his presence in the house alone was surprising, "You're doing everything for him that he needs. He's dealing with it, and you're standing back and staying within arm's reach at the same time. You've grown up so much. I, uh, I'm proud of you."

I smiled at him, not daring to speak in the hopes that I could shut down the waterworks and focus on other things other than myself and how I was feeling. Because, at the end of the day, this had very little to do with me.

Charlie covered the bowl of potatoes with some foil and slid it into the refrigerator for dinner when Edward came. My dad awkwardly excused himself under claims of a work call and stepped out of the front door, letting us be alone.

Edward stood there, looking at me with his hands in his pockets. His eyes were a little swollen and his hair was more than a little disheveled, but he was still perfect.

"Thank you," he said, breaking the silence. "For this. It's too much." He gestured towards the giant bowl in my hands, and I blushed.

"It's nothing," I said softly, trying not to wake Jasper or disturb Emmett right through the open back door.

Edward stared for just a minute more before rounding the countertop and placing a hand over mine, indicating that I should stop stirring. "It isn't nothing," he said, his voice so full of emotion that he didn't need to say anything else.

I immediately pressed my face to his chest, smelling his smell and holding him so tight that it hurt. He sighed heavily, kissing my head and rubbing my back, and I knew it would all get better. It was the weight off my chest, the strain gone from my shoulders. My head was clear. My senses were on fire, and Carlisle's spirit was coursing through the house like blood through veins. I felt Edward, and I felt Carlisle's presence, and I knew it would all get better.

I felt relief.


	28. Epilogue

**Well, here it is. After OVER A YEAR, it's finished (: Here's a short, baby epilogue to round it off for ya in BPOV. Thanks for sticking through. I love you guys.**

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"Who wants to say something?" Esme asked quietly, her voice shimmering in the still air.

We all looked at each other, our eyes wide as we waited for the first taker. Emmett jammed his hands in his pockets and brought his shoulders to his ears, sighing loudly. "I guess I'll go," he said.

Rosalie wrapped her hand around the crook of his arm, grinning at him with assurance.

Emmett took a deep breath. "It's been four years," he began. "A long four years. Dad brought us all together. We, uh, wouldn't be here together if it wasn't for the last couple months of his life. We were lucky to have him as our dad. Um. We miss you."

Esme leaned over from where she stood by Dr. Gerandy, rubbing Emmett's arm and smiling sadly to herself.

"I'll go next," Alice volunteered, leaning her head into Jasper's chest. "We miss you, Dad. You were the best father that you could be. I'm sorry that we didn't always appreciate you. But I know that you already know how you touched our lives; how you still touch them. So thanks for being here for us for all those years."

"We love you, Dad," Edward said suddenly. I felt his voice through the vibrations of his chest on my cheek, and I couldn't help the stray tear that slipped from my left eye.

Esme looked at the headstone from where it rose from the rolling grass, letting go of Greg Gerandy's hand for just a second to place five red roses on the ground above where Carlisle was buried. "One for you and I, and one for our children," she whispered, a tear falling down her pale cheek. She reached back for Greg's hand again like it was a life line.

We all looked down at Carlisle's grave for what seemed like hours. The only sounds were the wind beating against the limbs of the nearby trees and the occasional sniffle. I reached up on my toes to kiss Edward's cheek as he stared hollowly at the slab of stone, my wedding ring pressed against his jaw as I touched his face.

We all walked together down the path through the deep woods back to the main house-Alice, Jasper, Emmett, Rosalie, Edward, Esme, Greg, and I. No one spoke as thunder rolled through the gray sky, the light showers of the beginning of a storm dropping to our heads, our shoulders.

This was the day we always remembered. The day that, four years ago, Carlisle Cullen passed away in his home as his family slept. It was always a sad day, but we all found a strange kind of dark happiness. It was a sad day, yes, but also a day that we all felt good. We were able to remember him properly, to love him, and to talk about him freely together.

The spirits lifted as we all sat down at the round table off the kitchen, Esme taking the seat where Carlisle always sat. We all ate together, sharing our favorite memory of Carlisle. Charlie joined us for dessert.

After we were finished came Esme's favorite part. Every year on the anniversary of Carlisle's death, one of us would go get the giant photo album that Esme had constructed and we'd look through them all. Sometimes we'd laugh, sometimes we'd cry, sometimes we'd cringe if it was a particularly unflattering picture of one of us. Esme's favorites were the ones of she and Carlisle in the eighties. And the baby pictures, of course.

She always flipped through pictures of Carlisle without hair quickly. I think it hurt her to look at them. You could feel the mood in the room fall as she flipped quickly through the few of those that were included. But just after those were pictures of all of us moving off to school together, and, soon enough, pictures of Edward and I at our wedding.

The summer that we married brought change for everyone.

Alice and Jasper celebrated four years together, Edward and I celebrated our wedding, and Esme celebrated something on her own. She started dating again that year. Dr. Gerandy, Carlisle's closest friend in his lifetime, started taking her out once or twice a week, just as he did even now.

"That should probably irritate me," Edward said one night, after the doctor left from one of our weekly family dinners. "But it doesn't."

"She's finally happy again," I'd muttered, squeezing his hand.

"I know," he whispered back. "Which is why I can't hate him."

Carlisle's death wasn't something easily forgotten. I think that was part of the reason why Greg Gerandy fit in so well-he knew Carlisle in life and the unbelievable growth we'd all experienced together, and he knew how we were all affected by his death. He loved Carlisle, too, and he respected him. It made him easy to like, easy for Esme to love. His presence made nothing awkward. He even came with us on the four year mark of Carlisle's death. He stood among us, paying respect, and it felt natural.

I was just happy that Esme could potentially have someone else to live in that giant house with her. Carlisle had designed it and had it constructed from the ground up, and I knew it was hard on her to stay there on her own while all of her children grew up. Jasper and Alice lived near Edward and I during the larger part of the year in Pullman by WSU, and Emmett and Rosalie stayed together in Seattle. So Esme was in Forks, alone, and we all worried. Although Edward and Emmett had a natural aversion to him at first, Dr. Gerandy's presence soothed all of our minds.

We were all much the same people as we were those months that Carlisle was sick.

Emmett was still a moron, Rosalie slightly cold. Alice was neurotic and controlling, Jasper calm and quiet, Edward moody and impulsive. I was still spacey and clumsy and sometimes, a little foolish. But we were...I don't know, _kinder_. We all thought with our hearts a little more. Within the few years I spent with Edward before ultimately getting engaged, I saw a kindness and a tenderheartedness in him that I'd never seen before. Emmett grew in his responsibility through caring for his father, and he surprised us all by landing a job as an agent at a well-known insurance company in Seattle fresh out of college. Rosalie, though still very much the same, became one of my very best friends. She griped and complained about Emmett to me over the phone almost daily, but I could hear the fondness tucked into the folds of her voice. I could tell even through her whining and grouching that she loved Emmett more than she could ever love even herself.

Sometimes I think that Alice and Jasper were the strongest of us all. Alice, though often impossible, reacted toward Jasper in an unexplainable way. One minute, she'd be screaming or worrying or something else Alice-like, but the second he walked into the room, her shoulders and jaw visibly relaxed. They made each other very happy.

So I wasn't surprised at all when Jasper dropped down on one knee after a family dinner, all of us there to see. Even Dr. Gerandy.

And I know this all sounds like a happily ever after. Everyone winds up together, everyone is happy. But I feel like we kind of deserved it. I'd seen the whole family cry countless times, suffering and pulling through for one another. They'd survived something I never could have. They all made it through to the other side after tragedy struck, emerging as stronger people. Better people.

So don't we deserve this ending? I think that maybe we do. Every morning that I wake up in the big, white house, next to _my husband_, I feel like I have to hit myself in the head to feel like it's all real. I have to close my mind off to the small part that wonders how we all got so lucky this way.

_Life gives us things. And we have to take it_, Carlisle once said to Edward. I can't agree more.

Maybe I don't deserve anything. But I _know_ that Edward does.

So as we fall asleep together in our big, white house, the rain falling lightly against the windows, I know this is what Carlisle would have wanted. I can almost see his face perfectly in my mind, smiling and rocking in the swing on our front porch.


End file.
